A race to freedom
by CarsGirlsandMusic
Summary: Loosely following the storyline of The Fast and the Furious. Does love prevail, or is it all about winning, no matter the cost? Complete! (Sadly)
1. Prologue

"The truck has been loaded and is ready to leave. Don't forget my side of the deal, this cargo is heading your way."

The dock supervisor closed his phone and ensured that the container fastened to the Peterbilt rig was properly closed and gave signal to the longshoreman to lift the crane back up.

The cargo purely consisted of high value flat screen TV's and sound systems.

He gave a sly smile and indicated to the truck driver that he could leave the docks to embark on his journey to deliver the cargo all the way from Long Beach Harbor to Santa Barbara the next morning.

Little did the driver know that his journey would be cut short by three black Honda Civics and the cargo hijacked by a highly skilled and capable crew…


	2. Chapter 1 : Goosebumps

**Spencer : Goosebumps**

I am beyond excited. _Ecstatic_ , if I may.

The newly rigged out '96 Mitsubishi Eclipse hummed patiently while I scoped out a lookout point with a stretch of parking bays, overlooking smoggy LA. There wasn't a person in sight, making it the ideal place to start improving my driving… er, racing skills. It was a far cry from my go-kart racing days.

 _More like, learn how to drive this thing_ _,_ I chuckled to myself, feeling pure power surging through the engine as my black Converse tapped the accelerator. The whistling of the turbo gives me goosebumps every single time.

I silently congratulated myself for getting myself into this car… and situation…

I fiddled around with the sound system, stopping every so often after what I thought could be the perfect song for the day, but nothing seemed to still my racing heart. _Low bass, excellent choice, but nah… Pumping beats, ooh, Armin van Buuren! Not today though… Open road song, Eve 6, hmmm… Mozart Symphony 40 in G minor … now that's what we're talking about!_

I turned up the volume and took deep, steadying breaths, teasing the accelerator pedal lightly as I continued tapping it.

It was time.

Handbrake off, foot on clutch, hand on gear, I shifted into first and let go of the clutch. The transition was smooth as I pulled away; wheels spinning slightly, leaving a subtle layer of white smoke behind.

 _That's a couple of months off those tires_ , I thought cynically.

My heart beat hard against my chest as the tires found traction, the car picked up speed, and I shifted to second, double-clutching to keep the rev counter up high. Seconds later I was in third, then fourth – for a split second I lost concentration – and the car spun out.

It was both interesting and scary observing my surroundings in a 360 blur at quite a speed. When I finally got the car under control and managed to brake evenly, I hit the steering wheel in frustration.

"Shit!"

I still had a lot of practicing to do…

* * *

"Let me guess… Latte, no sugar, extra cold milk."

I tried not to stare – too much – at the _very_ attractive brunette with chocolate brown eyes. I grabbed a stool by the counter and hopped on.

"Your coffee tastes awful, but yeah, I'll have one of those, thanks," I smiled. My stomach was doing flip-flops as I watched her make the most terrible coffee. But I didn't mind. I loved putting myself in these extremely awkward situations as long as I could just see this girl.

It was worth every second. Just a tad bit shorter than me, she showed off her tanned body by wearing a tight black tank top and loose cargos. Odd combination, but oh so beautiful on her.

Her dark brown curly hair wrapped loosely around her face, with a red streaked fringe falling over her eyes.

Yes, I observed – okay _stared_ – as much as I could without leveling up to stalker status.

Wouldn't you?

Movement inside a back room in the small coffee shop caught my eye, and I forcefully diverted my attention to concentrate on a short brunette making her way to a mini fridge.

 _Kyla Davies_ , I mused. It didn't make sense at all to me how this beautiful goddess in front of me could be related to Kyla. _They don't exactly share the same looks_.

"Terrible Latte, extra cold milk," the brunette said, interrupting my thoughts. She pushed the coffee towards me and smiled.

 _Be cool, act cool, just be normal and say "thank you"._

My own smile reached my blue eyes as I took note of the name scribbled on a napkin. _Ashley_ … _What a pretty name for such a pretty lady!_

"So what brings you to this part of the neighborhood? You've been coming around for the past three weeks, putting up with shitty coffee every day," Ashley prompted, pulling me from my speechless stupor.

I chuckled. "It's not _that_ bad." _You're such a terrible liar!_

Ashley laughed. "Could've fooled me. So what gives?"

Her raspy voice gave me goosebumps and rendered my brain even more useless than my vocal chords. I had to think fast to make up for my giddiness _and_ my excuse of being here. "Driving lessons. Not too far from here." I nodded towards the red pickup standing outside. _Really? Driving lessons? What are you, sixteen?_

Ashley's eyes followed in the direction I was nodding, and then went wide. "You drive that thing? You don't seem like the type."

I blushed. She tried to put a label to me, _already_? My heart beat a tad bit faster than it did when I did that nauseating 360 spin twenty minutes ago. "And exactly what type do I seem like?" _Stay cool, of course she's checked you out, you've been stalking her for three weeks._

Ashley seemed to think it over, and chose her words carefully. "Let's see… Pretty blonde, striking blue eyes, casual jeans, t-shirt, and," she leaned over the counter to look at my feet, "Converse shoes. And drinks terrible coffee." She chuckled. "I wouldn't pin you for a girl driving around in a pickup that belongs to a spares shop, you look more like a college freshman."

I felt terribly insulted. I frowned at Ashley, wondering if the brunette was maybe not as bright as she initially seemed. _So who's been stereotyping now?_

"I work over at Arthur's Raceway Stop. Help with the parts and go-karting," I corrected her.

"Oh," Ashley said, blushing. "I'm sorry, I'm not the best judge of character and – "

Our conversation was cut short as three modified cars pulled up while revving unnecessary. I turned around slightly and watched as two guys and a girl made their way into the shop. The girl instantly seemed upset and walked right up to me.

"Did you lose something here? Why do you come here every day?"

Green eyes stared down at my blue eyes. I refused to look away, instead I raised an eyebrow. _Am I supposed to be scared?_

I thought I'd said it out loud, but instead, Ashley's raspy voice filled the room.

"Madison, stop. She's just having coffee."

Madison scoffed. "Just having coffee? Or just hitting on my girl?"

Ashley sighed. "Madison, drop it, please?"

The green-eyed Latina girl didn't back down.

I clenched my jaw, and after a short internal battle between my childish ego and responsible self, I finally slid off the stool and walked outside. It was no use getting into a fight over nothing. Not that Ashley was nothing, but the last thing I needed now was trouble.

Madison ran after me. "Don't you walk away from me like that!" she yelled. _Oh, watch me._

I reached the pickup and was about to fully open the driver side door, but Madison had caught up, and slammed the door shut. I turned around to face her, wondering what kind of expression was on my own face for her to scowl the way she did. I was just really a little shocked that this Latina girl thought she could come and threaten me. And maybe a little bit pissed off for ruining my moment with Ashley. To be honest, I was downright irate that she showed up in the first place.

"I was talking to you, _bitch_. Were you hitting on my girl?" Madison challenged me, her hand still on the door, effectively pinning me to the pickup. _Oh God, lay down on the Tequila's lady._ _It's only 2PM!_

I smirked despite the built up nausea in my throat after smelling the alcohol on Madison's breath . "What if I was?"

My cockiness earned me a slap in the face. _Fuck! Didn't see that one coming!_

I instantly lifted my arms in defense mode and gave Madison a good hard push. She stumbled backwards but her balance was good, and before I knew it she reached out again for another slap.

I was prepared this time, but merely blocked her attack and pushed her away again. _Don't be too aggressive now, Spencer._

I was so focused on getting Madison away from me that I was completely caught off guard when the short but fierce Kyla Davies suddenly had a grip on my throat and pushed me back against the pickup. _What the –_

"She was in my face!" I exclaimed like the thirteen-year-old I just thought I was.

But this was not my mother stepping in to break up a fight between me and my siblings. A brief shiver of fear ran down my spine as I stared into cold, _evil_ , brown eyes.

" _I'm_ in your face," Kyla corrected me.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Madison took a chance to dish out another slap while Kyla still had her death-grip on my delicate throat, but was promptly pushed back.

"Madison! Relax! You embarrass me!" Kyla yelled. She turned back to me. "You don't belong here. I see you work over at Arthur's. Consider yourself fired. And don't set foot in my shop again," she threatened.

I swallowed hard, trying my best not to show how nervous I was as Kyla's grip tightened on my throat. _Here it comes._ She reached into my jean pocket with her free hand and fished out my wallet. She opened it and scanned over the driver's license. _Just breathe. Act normal._ _Give your stupid smile like in that stupid photo._

"Spencer Wilson…Washington… Stay away from here, do you hear me?"

For the first time, my eyes left Kyla's, and I glanced around, noticing a handful of people watching us from across the street. Ashley seemed horrified at the scene unfolding in front of her. Then I stared at Madison, who looked ready to strike again, and finally my eyes landed back on Kyla, her stare indifferent, and frankly, quite scary for such a short woman.

 _Do people ever take you seriously when you're_ not _so scary?_

"Sure," I finally breathed out. _Whatever, I'll be back tomorrow._

Kyla let go of me and I subsequently dropped to the ground. _Wait, how –_ Kyla Davies had quite some muscle to keep me up for so long!

My wallet was thrown at me and a second later the Davies sisters and crazy Madison returned to the coffee shop, suddenly unfazed about the little incident.


	3. Chapter 2 : Sisterly Love

**Kyla : Sisterly love**

 _I'm so sick and tired of all these college girls Ashley is attracting. I mean, really? She's a fucking airhead, and can't even make decent coffee._

"Clay, come in here!" I let out a heavy sigh, staring at some paperwork in front of me. I couldn't focus anymore. Not after the little incident earlier. There was something about that girl…

"Kyla?" Clay always looked so nervous around me. Poor guy.

"Clay, I need you to run a background check for me please – Spencer Wilson, from Washington, if I remember correctly. Just check if it's legit and whatever else you can find, like a rap-sheet and anything, really. And I want Arthur's number please."

Prompt as always, Clay just leaves as quickly as he comes in. "Certainly, Kyla."

Now that the blonde was taken care of, I felt better, and knew that I could give some attention to the endless plans and paperwork strewn across the round table. A particular sheet caught my attention, and I picked it out of the stack, unable to hide a smile as I remembered the raid that produced such impressive figures on my bank statement. Of course, a lot of that money went to Ashley's stupid tuition fees. _Why can't she just settle with Madison and do what we all do? These fucking college fees are killing me. I need more money for our races. And the Desert Quarter Mile. 3 Weeks… After that, Mexico. Bye-bye shithole LA._

"Ashley!" _Maybe I can change her mind._

I almost felt sorry for her as she appeared in the door, looking so… dreadful. _Cargos? Who still wears that? Where's all her slacks and jeans I bought her?_

"Ky? Looking for me?" she asked innocently, leaning against the doorframe.

God, I hated her sometimes. She had no idea what we had to go through every month to keep food on the table, and live the decent lives we did. At first I didn't want her to have anything to do with it, but after she started taking driving lessons and proved herself to be quite the racer, I expected her to bring her side. But she just continues to live off of whatever we make in the coffee shop. With that terrible coffee that she insists we buy. _Fucking clueless, I tell you._

"Do you really have to keep on studying? Are you actually _learning_ anything?" I honestly didn't mean for it to come out so… bluntly, but I couldn't help myself. Of course, when her face fell and she frowned that charming frown that got her out of any trouble with me, my heart softened. "I just need to know if it's still necessary that I pay for your new books. You know things are a bit tight until our next run."

"Yeah, Ky, I _am_ learning, and I really do want to keep on studying, because – " Defense alert!

"Okay, whoa, Ash, calm down. I was just asking. If that's what you want, I will try my best to come up with the funds." _Hook_. She looked as if someone killed her puppy.

"Ky, if there's no money we can hold off. I'll see what I can do… maybe increase sales in the shop," Ashley stated dejectedly.

She was taking the bait easier than I expected. Maybe she'd finally agree to do a race or something. _Anything_. I just wanted her away from the books. She belonged with this family, racing. That was what the Davies were good at. And I'd be damned if we let our father down. May his soul rest in peace. "What about a race? Or do a dry run with us?" I knew I was pushing it, but she had to grow some. It was time to get with reality. _Line._ No way I was going to let Ashley Davies, daughter of famous supercar racer Raife Davies, become some bean counter or paper pusher or whatever they called those people who worked with numbers.

Ashley stepped into the little room and closed the door behind her. I immediately knew there was a hissy fit on the way.

"Kyla, look, I know you want me to race." _Or not. She's eerily calm_. "I'll practice for the Desert Quarter, okay? And if I do get anything then I'll give the money to you or pay towards my own books and tuition. Would that be okay?"

Before I could even answer, my grown up little sister pulled a chair closer, and sat down, staring at me face-to-face. I wasn't sure if I should be proud or worried. _Imagine Ashley being as ballsy as you_. I nearly snorted at the thought.

"Ky?" she begged me with her eyes.

I closed my own eyes, unable to look at her anymore. And partly because I felt a migraine rolling in.

Ashley took that as her cue, and thankfully got up. When I opened my eyes again, she was already halfway out the door. "Just one race, Ash! You can keep the money."

 _Sinker_.

* * *

Sometimes I hated having a sister. A younger sister at that. Although I loved the power trip it gave me, there were also the times where I had to pretend to care, like now. I took a deep breath, and softly knocked on Ashley's door, wondering what kept her in her room all the time.

"It's open," her voice sang from the other side.

I turned the knob and walked in on a sight that annoyed me profoundly. Ashley was sat up on her bed, glasses on, school papers strewn all over. She was studying. _She should be practicing for her race tonight, not fucking studying!_ I took a deep breath to keep my temper in control, pasted on a fake smile, and gestured to her desk chair. "May I?"

Ashley smiled. Her child-like innocence was another thing that annoyed me. "Hey Ky, what's up?"

I sat down on the desk chair and sighed. "Ash, I need to tell you something about that girl," I started, getting right into business. I was intending to keep this conversation short and sweet. And to the point. Ashley needed to know that this was not an option for her, it was an order.

"What girl?" she asked. _Can you be any more fucking clueless?_

"That blonde bimbo who comes by the shop every day," I snapped, "who pretends to like your fucking awful coffee." _Okay, calm down, no need to be so cruel._

I noticed the stunned look on Ashley's face and immediately felt bad – even if it was the truth. "Look, Ashley, I'm not getting into a fight with you about this. I'm here to tell you to stay away from that girl, she's bad news."

Naturally, Ashley was on the defensive. "Kyla, first of all, I haven't done anything wrong. I'm just serving customers. Secondly, what if I like her? What is _so_ bad about her – "

 _Ugh, can you just wake up, Ashley?_ "Well, I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but Clay ran a background check on her." I was now beyond irate. Why did Ashley have to be so stupid? And attract all these stupid girls? And why was she such a softie? Where was the badass Ashley Davies from high school? "And she's been to jail. For car boosts, several other felonies, and assault. Now you know I don't care so much about people's histories, but there's a _lot_ at stake here, Ashley. Our cars which are our livelihood, and more important, your safety! I will _not_ let you see someone who spent time in jail for assaulting people. I know sometimes I wish someone _would_ slap that fucking stupidity out of you, but I care enough not to let that happen to you." _You were not cut out to be a good spokesperson for united sisters, Kyla Davies._ I held up my stare until Ashley finally dropped her head, looking down at her fidgety hands.

"Whatever, Kyla. Just leave, please."

 _And… pity party. Fuck me_. "Ash, you know I care, right? I'm an asshole, I know. But I do care."

It was hard doing damage control once I've lost my temper, especially with Ashley. Welcome to my life. I considered going over to give her an apologetic hug, but it would just be too awkward. I don't do hugs. That's what my mind said. My body, however, had a different idea. A second later I crumpled Ashley's schoolwork as I sat down on the bed and pulled her in my arms, tightly.

 _What the –_ I was caught completely off guard when Ashley hugged me back.

"I know you care," she sobbed. _Sobbed? When did she start crying?_ "I just wish sometimes things were different, you know?"

I sighed, realizing where this was going. She missed our dad. The life we had back then. But it was a long time ago. While I enjoyed life more like it was now, Ashley wished she could go back to the comfort of having parents around, and living a sheltered badass life because she could, and could get away with anything. But things were different now. Death has changed her. Jail has changed her. Life has changed her. Into some soft puddle of fuck-knows-what. I just hoped that she would grow up soon. Or get over all her issues. Nobody ever said life, or reality, was easy. It's how we dealt with it that made the difference.


	4. Chapter 3 : Adrenaline Rush

**Spencer : Adrenaline Rush**

"Spencer, I know it's part of your job, but you are messing with my business, and my income! Do you know how many kids see what the Davies' buy for their cars, and want to buy it too? And they pay cash!"

I ignored my father, held my breath, and trotted over to a little room at the back of the spares shop, found the sink, and opened the cold water. Splashing water into my face immediately helped to calm me down. I got myself pretty worked up during the drive back to the shop. I was just not sure if it was because of Kyla, or Madison. _Why does Ashley hang around with them anyway?_ It took another second to catch my breath, and finally I was able to face my dad.

"I know dad, and I'm sorry. It won't be long anymore. So I take it Kyla phoned you?" _Please say no, please say no._

Arthur let out a frustrated sigh and put his hands on my shoulders. "She did. She wanted me to fire you, but I pleaded with her that I'm short-staffed. Spencer, messing with these people are dangerous." _Shit._

I couldn't help but laugh at my father's concern. "Dad, I'm old enough to – "

He loved interrupting me. "I'm _aware_ , Spencer. I'm just looking out for you." He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and started walking back into the main section of his shop.

I followed him, but something shiny caught my eye, and I sidestepped straight over to a glass case displaying cylinders of NOS.

"Dad," I called over to him. _He's going to freak!_ I pointed to the glass case when I finally had his attention. "I need this. Two of them. My car topped out at 140 this morning. I need to have it fitted by tomorrow tonight."

To say he was annoyed was an understatement. I watched as my father marched over to me, and I actually had to take a step back, just to brace myself for his verbal rift of me being irresponsible and naïve.

"Spence, I've seen you drive. Do you have a death wish? I'm not ready to scrape you off the road after you've blown yourself up."

That was an insult as much as it was the truth. But I was learning, okay? Besides, he didn't really have a say in this. "By tomorrow, dad." _Spencer: 1 ; Dad: 0._

I swiftly turned around and hurried out to the back, leaving my father to drown in his overprotective concern.

* * *

I wondered if I was allowed to call an ambulance and ask them to be on standby a couple of blocks away. My practice run earlier had not gone down that well, mostly because I never listen to my dad, but then again, I don't follow orders and instructions that well. As a result, I'd used up all the NOS on trial runs to test when to open up. Boy was my dad happy to see me to have the empty cylinders returned and me demanding new ones since he couldn't refill them!

I felt bad that my father had to go through this. I mean, he's lived an honest life all his life, and worked _so_ hard to be where he is today. It hasn't always been this easy. I remembered vaguely that before the divorce, he used to race a little. At least that's what I thought he did. But the divorce ruined him. I didn't remember much about my mother, I was seven when it happened, and I didn't even know what happened that I landed up in dad's custody. It was an unspoken rule that we never talked about any of it.

So I grew up living with my dad, and until I was about twelve years old, my life was fairly sheltered. I went to school, had tons of friends, went to grandma's after school, until dad joined us for dinner, and then we'd normally go home, hang out a bit, and go to bed. That was weekdays. On weekends I spent every waking moment with my friends. But then grandma passed away, and things changed.

I had to go to dad's shop after school, and eventually weekends too. It was okay in the beginning, I appreciated spending more time with dad, but I was soon at that age where high school pressured you into categories. I became a social outcast as dad never let me out. I hated him for a good couple of years. I didn't even know when things turned around for us. All I know for certain is that at this very moment, I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't for dad. So I guess I owed him big time.

When nightfall came, I purposely drove downtown towards a particular street that was buzzing with souped up cars, men pumped with testosterone, and beautiful ladies throwing themselves at potential race winners. Side streets were blocked off with strategically parked cars, while several other cars had police trackers fitted and overly excited drivers feeding information about any police activities in the area, to organizers back at the starting points. It was an expertly organized illegal event, allowing street racers to drool over cars they couldn't afford, and women they could never have.

I approached the hordes of cars and people in my bright green Eclipse, and found an empty spot to park. Getting out, a small smile reached the corner of my mouth as I took in what was in front of me. Not only did the variety of cars, sound of turbochargers, constant tapping of acceleration pedals, and sound systems exploding with low bass pull me in; I was also entranced by barely clad females roaming around, _everywhere_. If not for the cars, I'd _definitely_ be a spectator to enjoy the sight of the women. _I wonder if I'd get laid tonight –_

My thoughts were rudely interrupted by one of the organizers approaching me. He must've realized that I was new here. I wouldn't mention just _how_ new… New to this community, new to this kind of setup, new to racing… I mean, these were not go-karts for kids where top speeds reached 16MPH. Neither supercarts where, if you really pushed it, you could make 120MPH. No, this was some serious horsepower and speed we were dealing with here. 120MPH was what you'd want going to third gear, ready to activate NOS. And hopefully not blow yourself up, or spin out of control, subsequently totaling your car. Or die. _That_ was also an option.

"Nice ride. What you running under there, gorgeous?" The guy looked like he was trying to give Eminem a run for his money.

I instinctively reached for a lever to open the hood, but held off when he just started introducing himself.

"I'm Glen. Good to see some more female action joining in on the races." He reached out, and while I thought we would just shake hands, Glen kissed the top of my hand. _Eeeeew…_

I tried to hide the sudden nauseated feeling running through me, and smiled with a clenched jaw. "Spencer. Nice meeting you."

"So what brings you to this part of town – I've never seen your pretty face around here before," Glen smirked.

I held back. I was used to this sexist remarks all my life. People, especially men, did not believe that a _'pretty blonde like me'_ had been working under the hoods of cars and teaching boys to ride go-karts since I was twelve years old. _I wouldn't be surprised if I taught_ you _how to drive, idiot_.

"I'm waiting for Davies," I finally breathed out confidently.

And lo and behold, the crowds started bustling around, clearing the street for five cars to maneuver through endless rows of cars and people. I took special note of a certain brunette cruising in a blue Honda Integra. My heart fluttered at the knowledge that the girl I was crushing on could drive a racecar. I smirked to myself. _Probably way better than me_. Last to come in was Kyla Davies, sporting a red Mazda RX-7. I could only imagine what modifications had been done to that car.

The Davies clan parked their cars several cars down from mine, and were immediately surrounded by crowds. I noticed how Kyla seemed to attract the attention of some organizers, and over-eager racers. And then there was Ashley, instantly attracting a handful of girls, barely clothed. _God, she's so beautiful._ As much as I felt jealousy rise up in my throat at the crowd Ashley attracted, I couldn't help but laugh as Madison marched up to the girls, her own jealousy getting the better of her.

"I smell skanks." Madison sniffed in the air to exaggerate. Then, shooing the girls away, she added, "why don't you girls just pack it up before I leave tread marks on your face?"

Ashley snorted at Madison's ridiculous jealousy, and I chuckled, glad that I was within earshot.

"Don't be like that, Mad, now is not the time," Ashley reprimanded the Latina girl.

Madison gave Ashley an incredulous look, as if what Ashley had said was overly offensive. "When are you going to start treating me like your girlfriend, instead of flirting with everything that has boobs?"

"I'm not your girlfriend, Madison. When are you going to start realizing that?" With that Ashley turned and joined her sister who was busy setting up their races. _Ooh, she's single?_

I watched from a distance how Kyla spoke to Glen, who was to officiate Kyla's race. "One race. Two grand buy-in. Winner takes all," Kyla negotiated.

I knew this was my cue to get in on the action. I promptly made my way through the crowd and stopped in front of Kyla.

"Wait up. I don't have any cash," I started, and ignored the booing of the people around me. "But I do have the pink slip right here for my car." I fished the paper out of my back pocket and stared intensely at Kyla, hoping she'd take the bait.

"Hey, wait a minute. You think you can just jump in here and challenge us?" Clay, one of Kyla's crew members asked.

I swallowed hard. This was probably the hardest thing I'd ever had to do. And I'd done some serious convincing in my life, but this was a situation unlike any other. "Well, here's my offer. I lose, the winner takes my car, clean and clear. But I win, I take the cash, and I take the respect."

"Respect?" Kyla laughed. The groupies around her laughed with her.

My eyes drifted to Ashley, who confused me with a rather smug smile on her face. Our eyes locked for a second, and I felt my knees turn to mush. "To some people that's more important."

It seemed like Kyla was considering my offer. _Please_ _take the bait, please go for it. It's now or never._

Kyla glanced over at my green Eclipse. "Is that your car?"

I nodded, and it took a second to get my legs from mush to muscle, to follow as Kyla, Ashley, Madison, Clay, and Glen made their way to my prized possession.

Clay lifted the hood and several people gasped in admiration of what modifications had been done to my Eclipse. Clay sounded excited as he started listing off what he could see. "I see a cooler intake, a NOS fogger system, T4 Turbo, an AIC controller, direct port nitrous injection…"

"And a standalone fuel management system," Kyla finished Clay's sentence. She stared at me, frowning. I suddenly felt like a teenager in my worn-down jeans, a decent fitting Metallica T-shirt, and black Converse shoes. She made me feel self conscious, and out of place, like she knew who I really was. Finally she sighed. "Okay Wilson, you're in."

A surge of adrenaline rushed through me, and I had to try really hard to keep my excitement in control. _Easy now, tiger. You still have to race_. A quick glance at Ashley stilled the teenager in me. Her entire demeanor has changed around me since the last time we saw each other at their coffee shop. _You're way out of your league, Spencer_. _What the hell have you been thinking?_ _Ashley was never into you and Kyla will eat you for lunch!_ But there was no backing out of the race now, I'd get myself killed. Without even crashing my car.

There was a lot of bustling around as the organizers and spectators took their places, clearing a quarter mile of street for the participants to take their chance at winning the money. I glanced to my right – being on the far left – and made eye contact with two other participants and finally, Kyla. I wondered how high the stakes were for Kyla Davies, but I knew she wasn't worried. She probably knew this race was going to her. I felt slightly nervous as I pulled up to the start line, the humming of the Eclipse's engine only slightly comforting. Unlike Kyla, the stakes for me were high. There was the car, street credibility, and of course, making it to the finish line. Alive. At this stage, only the latter mattered to me. _You can do this, Spencer, you can win this._

I tapped the accelerator pedal, tempting the other drivers to do the same. The turbo whistled, giving me goosebumps. _I love that sound!_ Ensuring that the NOS cylinders were open, and that all settings were as it should be, a last glance at the other two competitors and Ashley gave me the encouragement I needed to give this race my all. _Wait, what?! Ashley?!_

I did a double take and realized that Ashley had taken Kyla's place in the RX-7. _What the hell?_ My heart raced as I tried to compose myself. This was not good, not good at all! How was I going to concentrate now?

My sudden nightmare was interrupted when two girls, who barely looked twenty-one, dressed in short miniskirts, long boots, and halter tops, walked across in front of us, waiting for the signal to start counting down. I nervously tapped on the accelerator pedal again, trying not to think of Ashley.

 _Get your head in the game, Spencer_. Game face on, I gave a final glance at my opponents, and focused on the drag strip ahead of me. All I needed to do was hold that steering wheel as tight as I could as I picked up speed. To win, I had about nine seconds to make it to the finish line. _Can't I rather trade it for nine lives?_

Anticipation started building up. Cars revving, crowds holding their breaths as we waited for the two girls to lower their checkered flags. To keep my mind busy, I kept tapping, listening carefully to the whistle of the turbo. I had to make a fast pull-away. First, second, double-clutch to third, activate NOS, double-clutch to fourth if needed. All the while keeping the wheels straight. _You can do this_. _You've done this your entire life. In go-karts…_

Finally, the two girls slid in between our cars, anxiously waiting for Glen's signal. Hands shifted gears to first. One foot on clutch pedals, while the other tapped acceleration.

"Go!" Glen's voice was faint over the roaring crowd and screeching of wheels.

The combustion in the Eclipse's engine happened so quickly that I almost forgot to release the clutch pedal. My car spun out for a split-second, but after years of training behind the wheels of go-karts, I had learned how to regain control quickly. _Thanks Dad!_ My quick reaction led to catching up to the third racer, and eventually the second. We were head to head, and I smiled at the driver, knowing that he didn't have a chance against me. He'd used his NOS after pulling away without even gaining traction. He wouldn't be able to go faster than he already did.

I was already in third gear, and still picking up speed. I knew I'd have to activate the NOS soon.

But I held back, trying to catch up to Ashley first, who was just a fraction of a second ahead of me.

Everything around me was a blur as we sped down the quarter mile that have been cleared for the race. It was as intense as I thought it would be. Adrenalin pumped through my veins the same way fuel rapidly combusted in the engine. I wheezed the same way the turbocharger whistled. And my heart beat as fast as buildings, cars, and spectators sped by. It was a great feeling. _Please don't crash, please don't crash!_ I realized that I had to activate the NOS now to build up more speed to cross that finish line, hopefully ahead of Ashley, who was surprisingly a _very_ good driver. With the push of a switch, a strong combustion in the engine caused the green Eclipse to blur past the spectators, and eventually past Ashley. I smiled. I was leading this race! Ashley was an entire car's length behind me.

My palms suddenly became sweaty. This was a good thing, right? I was beating Ashley Davies, sister of the queen of drag racing in LA. _So_ _why does it feel like something is wrong with this picture?_

Imagine the disappointment that washed over me when Ashley, then only, nearly at the finish line, activated her third stage of NOS. Her RX-7 shot forward, leaving no chance for me to catch up. A second later she made her way over the finish line, leaving me to trail behind her. The other two guys finally caught up, their cars smoking from the engines.

When I finally switched off the engine, there were hordes of people surrounding Kyla and her car, with no Ashley in sight. A handful of people ran up to me, congratulating me, and some laughing at my loss. I didn't realize what they meant until Kyla pointed it out.

"I almost had her," I challenged her. _I wish I_ did _have Ashley_.

"You never had her, Wilson. And you never had your car!" Kyla smirked, flinging herself into a tall black-haired guy's arms after shaking hands with Glen and taking the winnings. Kyla's boyfriend looked like a typical jock.

 _Oh shit._ I've just lost my car _. I just lost my car!_ I was _so_ dead.

I barely had time to let it sink in as we were warned that the cops were onto us. Without even thinking, I jumped into my car, forgetting for a moment that it now belonged to Kyla Davies. She didn't seem to mind, however, as everybody scrambled to jump into their cars to avoid being arrested.

"Ashley! Where the fuck is Ashley?" I heard Kyla yelling at Madison.

I felt bad for not caring, but I really had to get out of this mess. If I got caught, there would be serious repercussions. So I did what everybody else did – sped away.


	5. Chapter 4 : Deception

**A/N: Hope you're enjoying the story. Everything is already plotted out and written, but I'm still adding some color to the characters and scenes!**

* * *

 **Ashley : Deception**

 _This is just great._

I parked my Honda Integra in an old parking garage, thankful that Kyla had taught me at least one good thing. I hoped that they were okay. And I wondered if they were even worried about me. I always feared that this would happen – a cop bust, and that we'd get arrested. I couldn't afford to go to jail, not again. I'd never be able to finish my studies then or get a decent job. My heart sank at the thought.

I knew Kyla meant well – I knew deep down she still cared about me. But she was an absolute bitch, and she had no idea who I was, who I'd become. She constantly shot down my dreams and aspirations of wanting to become an Accountant. Or if I could, a Forensic Accountant. Don't ask me why, but I had this thing about numbers. And since watching so much of _The Catch_ while in jail, I was just more inspired. I absolutely _loved_ that show. It changed my life. That's why I pleaded with her to keep the coffee shop. Kyla had no clue, but I used the coffee shop as practical experience. And I knew full well that we were way better off than she led me to believe. But her lies didn't faze me. If anything, it only made me more determined to succeed at getting my degree and living my dreams.

Unfortunately, though, I was stuck until I could finish my studies. I was stuck with all the illegal things Kyla and her little crew were doing, and I was stuck with a criminal record that wasn't rightfully mine. The racing wasn't as bad, but what could have been a nice thing to enjoy, had also become an obstacle in my life. It was hard doing it, knowing that was what had taken my father's life. Kyla never took the time to understand my fears about it. I was just forced into accepting that I had to learn how to drive like a maniac and hopefully survive every time I participated in a race.

I tried my best not to cry as I made my way into the street, pulling my jacket over my shoulders and keeping up the pace to get home as quick as possible. A police squad car drove past me, and I held my breath, hoping it would continue to look for other racers.

"Davies, stop right there." The car stopped and made a U-turn.

 _Shit!_ I panicked. I had to make a run for it – and I _did_ – not thinking once that I wouldn't be able to outrun a car. The only advantage I had was taking quick corners, so at the first opportunity, I did, turning into an alleyway that was unfortunately wide enough for the squad car to follow me.

I was soon running out of breath, and my feet hurt; I'd left my racing Sneakers in my car and was wearing heels. There was no time to stop and take them off now. The squad car was getting closer, and my chest tightened up. _I can't go back to jail, I'm not going back there_ , I kept reminding myself as encouragement to keep going.

Headlights suddenly blinded me up ahead, and I almost sank down to surrender myself.

But a familiar voice shouting out to me gave me hope.

"Come on, get in!" Was that… _Spencer_?

My heart raced. Was I really being saved by the very person my sister warned me against? Kyla's warnings were pushed to the back of my head as I realized that Spencer was the only chance I had to get out of here, and keep out of jail. So I opened the passenger door and jumped in.

"Go, go, go!" I yelled at her as I slammed the door shut.

I watched as Spencer skillfully shifted to reverse, and backed us out of the alley in mere seconds. Once nearing the street, she gracefully turned the steering wheel and drifted her way into the fast lane. Her driving was pretty impressive, but I could tell she was still an amateur at this. Double-clutching didn't come natural now as it did while she was racing.

I kept watching her, her technique, her hand on the gear lever, her toned arm, up to her neck, her face… She was breathtaking. Several strands of blonde hair had come out of her hair band, occasionally covering the side of her face. Her big blue eyes were focused on the road, a slight frown of concentration visible on her forehead. Her lips were pulled tight, accentuating a clenched jaw.

Even in her worried state, she was beautiful.

"Stop staring." A small smile formed at the curve of her mouth.

I blushed at being caught out. I decided to stare out the window, not wanting to break her concentration while we got onto the highway, quickly evading the cops. She was really good at this. Even if she was still an amateur. When it became evident that we had outrun the police, Spencer started slowing down and took an exit.

"Thank you, for this – I didn't expect you of all people to show up," I said gratefully.

Spencer smiled shyly. "Well, I thought if I helped you, your sister would let me keep my car."

I snorted at her cockiness. "Oh Kyla will be grateful alright, but you're not keeping your car."

I watched her smoothly pull into a slow lane as we headed into small industrial areas. I had no idea where we were, but I wasn't going to help her out with my address. Not yet.

"So, what's up with you? You're driving like you've done this before, and just the other day you told me you're still taking driving lessons." I didn't know why, but I was set to call her on her lying and her jail time history.

I guess part of me was disappointed that she turned out as bad as all the other girls I've met.

When Spencer didn't answer me, I took a long look at her again, realizing she was avoiding my question. It made me slightly angry.

"So… what is it then, do you boost cars?"

Spencer turned her head so fast, I thought she'd get whiplash. "No, never!" _Stop lying_.

I nodded sadly, taking a deep breath. "Ever done time?"

Spencer glanced over at me, but never made eye contact. "A couple of over nighters here and there." _Why are you lying to me?_

My heart was breaking. I really wanted Kyla to have been wrong about this girl. "What about the year in juvie, for boosting cars? And the year in jail for fraud? And then another year, for assault?"

I held my glare on her until she'd acknowledge the truth. Spencer finally did turn to face me, and when our eyes locked, she looked almost sad that I'd found out. "WCCW, right?"

Spencer just nodded, and turned her attention back to the road.

"We ran a profile check on you, Spencer Wilson. Clay's an ex MIT-guy, we can find out anything about anyone. So why bullshit me?" I felt hurt that she'd lied to me. Maybe there were reasons why she was in those situations. Maybe she wasn't as bad a person as Kyla said she was.

Spencer chose not to answer me, but to divert my questions right back at me. "So what about you, Ashley Davies?"

I knew then that she knew. And unlike Spencer, I was not the lying type. "Two years, CCWF. I'd rather die before I go back."

Spencer only nodded, focused on the road. "Oh shit, what the hell is this?"

I frowned, and instantly knew what was going on when three bikes suddenly pulled up, one on each side of the car, and one pulling up in front of us. The person on Spencer's side knocked on her window with a gun, and indicated that we should follow them.

 _Kyla and her stupid rivalries._

"What the fuck, Ashley?" Spencer demanded.

I sighed in frustration. "Just do as they tell you. It's Kyla's stupid rivals. I doubt they'd do anything to us." _You better be right, Ashley. They have guns. And Kyla's not around to sort out her own shit._

We followed the bikes to a rundown warehouse, and were forced to park outside. Another two bikes appeared out of nowhere and blocked in Spencer's car. We got out slowly, and waited for the crew to remove their helmets. All of them had weapons. I tried to ignore the fear pumping through me. Surprisingly, Spencer seemed a lot calmer than I thought she would be. Maybe she was used to this kind of thing after all that jail time.

Finally, the leader of the crew removed her helmet, and I realized it was Carmen. _This is worse than I thought!_

"My, my… Ashley Davies, in the flesh. I thought we had an agreement," Carmen smirked, walking towards me. I held my breath as she stopped right in front of me, her body nearly flush to mine. I tried not to look her in the eyes, but she lifted my chin with the barrel of her gun. From the corner of my eye I could see concern on Spencer's face.

"I uh, we got lost, I'm sorry we didn't tell you," I lied. Well, maybe Spencer _didn't_ know the area. Carmen gave one step back and turned to Spencer, standing close against her like she did to me.

"You're a nice piece of work… how come I've never seen you around before?" Carmen pushed.

Before Spencer could even come up with an answer, I jumped in. "She's going to be our new mechanic, for the Desert Quarter. We needed an extra set of hands."

That seemed to be reason enough for Carmen, and she stepped back completely. "Desert Quarter, you say? Are you going to race?"

I had no idea if I was going to race. It was still something I had to think about. If I'd made enough money after tonight's race and then some extra from the coffee shop, I wouldn't need to race ever again.

"Still indecisive, I see," Carmen interrupted my thoughts. She smirked and cocked her gun towards Spencer. "Well, let me make it easy for you then. I want to race you, Ashley. And I'd love to take away your car, your _girl_ ," she nodded towards Spencer, "and your sister's credibility. You see, Kyla is a bitch and can get away with anything. But you, you're a little softie. So unfortunately you leave me with no choice than to use you."

"She's not my girl," I choked out. _Really, that's all you have to say?_

Carmen laughed, and her crew followed suit. "Whatever you say, Davies." She walked back towards her bike, climbed on, and started pulling her helmet over her head. "See you at Desert Quarter, Ashley."

I couldn't believe that they had let us off the hook so easily. We watched as they drove away, and I realized that I was still holding my breath. I wanted to ask Spencer if she was okay, but she beat me to it. "Are you okay?"

The gentleness in her voice made my knees weak. _Why_ _couldn't you have just been normal?_ I would have given anything to go on a date with Spencer. Get to know her. Mean something to her. But I couldn't date criminals – especially not the abusive kind. And Kyla would kill me. If she didn't kill Spencer first.

"I'm good," I breathed out, opening the door to get back in her car. It was time to get home. I was exhausted.

Spencer reached for her door handle, but in that second, I heard the sound of bikes again. My heart sank. Something bad was about to happen. I ran to Spencer's side and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of harm's way just in time. Carmen and her crew had made a return and opened fire on us. The entire driver side got covered in bullet holes. When I heard wheezing, I remembered something. NOS was explosive! I pulled Spencer further away from the car and finally dropped on top of her as we heard, and then felt, the blast.

I stayed still, protecting Spencer with my own body for a couple of minutes longer than I should, ensuring that Carmen and her crew was gone, and that we were out of harm's way. When she wriggled underneath me, I lifted myself up and gave her a hand to pull herself up as well.

"Thanks," she whispered. Her face was covered in dirt and a thin stream of blood made its way down her eye. She glanced at her watch, and then back at me. "Come on, let's get you home."


	6. Chapter 5 : I need

**Spencer : I need**

"You want to come in for a drink?"

I could think of a lot of reasons why that was a terrible idea, but my libido convinced me otherwise.

Ashley looked exhausted, but even in her tired, dust-covered state, she was still incredibly hot. Plus, I had to explain to Kyla Davies why she didn't have a car anymore. _Yeah,_ that's _going to go down well!_

"One drink, then I really have to go," I sighed in mock fatigue.

Ashley giggled and opened the front door, revealing a party going on inside.

We carefully made our way in through crowds of people. Even though I'd seen their house on photographs before, I was still surprised at how big it was. Ashley grabbed my hand and led me to their kitchen. The swinging doors closed behind us, drowning out the loud music. I winced at the sight of Kyla and her boyfriend on the kitchen island, making out.

Ashley cleared her throat and waited for Kyla to notice her. Relief was written all over the sister's face, but then she saw me…

"Ashley, what the fuck is _she_ doing here?" Kyla had the same angry face on as the other day when she nearly choked me against my dad's pickup. She pulled out of her boyfriend's arms and faced the two of us.

"Oh, _she_?" Ashley asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice. " _She_ , picked me up when I was about to get busted." Ashley pointed to me. "And _she_ , saved my ass when Carmen blew up her car!"

Wow. Ashley was really fuming. But why was she lying to her sister? She saved _my_ ass, not the other way around. I guess correcting her now wouldn't be the best idea.

Kyla stared me up and down, the same way she did before she agreed that I could race her. Only this time, I felt even more self-conscious. I was dirty, my jeans were torn, and I had blood dripping down my face. Ashley had tried to wipe it off on our way to their house, but my eyebrow just kept bleeding.

"Thank you, Spencer, for bringing her home safely," Kyla finally said. She stepped towards Ashley and gave her a quick hug. "I'm glad you're okay. And I'm _sorry_. But you know the rules, we meet back up here. Cool down time is 10 hours. I'm sorry you had a run-in with Carmen."

Ashley accepted the hug, and apologies, but was still irate. "Carmen blew up Spencer's car. So don't hold it against her."

Ashley pulled away, and then tugged on my arm. "Come on, let's go get you cleaned up."

We were about to leave the kitchen, but of course, Madison had to ruin it. She stormed through the door, towards me, and in a swift move pinned me against a fridge. Only this time, I wasn't slapped, and Kyla stopped her to protect me. "Let her go, Mads. She's good."

Madison gave a sardonic laugh. "Good? _Good_ , Kyla? She was out all night, with Ashley! Look at them!" She turned her head to face Ashley, but kept me pinned. "Are you hurt, Ash? Do you need me to have a look at you?" I snorted and Madison's head spun back to face me. "You think this is funny?" she yelled into my face.

"Madison! That is enough! Let her go, _now_!" Kyla stepped in. _Finally! What took you so long?_ Even Kyla's boyfriend was now more alert to what was going on. He looked ready to grab Madison at any time. "Aiden, take her outside, please," Kyla asked him. I watched as the jock led Madison out.

It was just the three of us left.

"I'm sorry, Spencer. Grab yourself a drink and make yourself at home. Ash will help you get cleaned up." _Wait, what?_ Kyla had totally done a 180 on me! "Ash, I've got a first aid kit in my bathroom."

* * *

"So… your sister's quite the badass, huh?" I tried to keep the conversation light when Ashley seemed to grow more quiet as we entered her immaculate room. I glanced around, noticing books stacked onto a small desk, and papers strewn across. Her bed was neatly made, and no clothes covered her floor – unlike mine, where I deemed it easier to find anything I needed.

Ashley sat me down on the edge of her bed, and opened up the first aid kit.

"She just cares. She works hard for everybody to be happy." She lifted a wet cloth to my face and gently started wiping at the dry blood.

My heart started skipping beats, and my breathing became shallow. Having Ashley Davies this close to me had only happened in my dreams before. And I was convinced it was going to stay there. But here she was, tending to my injuries so gently. It didn't even hurt – I never even knew that I got hurt until Ashley pointed it out. Her touch sent shivers down my spine. I watched her as she carefully wiped around my eye. She concentrated hard not to hurt me. She was biting down on her lower lip, and her eyes were a dark shade of brown. Strands of her red fringe would occasionally cover her eyes, and eventually, before she could wipe at them, I reached up and tucked it behind her ear.

Ashley blushed.

I was sure I did too.

She broke our spell by turning away, grabbed a butterfly band-aid, and neatly stuck it onto my eyebrow.

"That should do the trick." She smiled, more to herself. I watched her clean the mess off her bed and sat herself down against the headboard.

Ashley Davies had the most incredible, sexiest, warming smile on earth. Maybe the entire universe as we knew it. I was so relieved to be sitting down because my knees turned into that all-too-familiar mush again. Did I mention she had an incredible smile?

"… home?"

 _Oh. Shit. Did she say something?_! I blushed, and had to ask in great embarrassment that Ashley repeat her question.

She chuckled at my expense. "I just wanted to know if I could offer you a lift home?" Her raspy voice had become even more so as it got later and she became sleepy. I would give anything to prolong our time together, but I'd feel too bad to make her drive me home while she was clearly drained.

"I appreciate the offer, Ashley, but I'll just catch a cab. You should get some sleep, it's been a long night."

"Wait, are _you_ not tired after everything that's happened tonight?" _Sexy_ and _adorable?_ _Yes please!_

I shrugged casually. "I am." _Not_ _really, this was nothing compared to –_

"Well then, Spencer, thank you for saving my butt back there. And for bringing me back home. I really appreciate it." Ashley leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on my cheek.

I couldn't hold back the blush or awkwardness that suddenly overcame me. _Holy crap she just kissed me!_ "Thank you for saving me too!" _Ashley Davies just kissed my cheek! "_ Goodnight Ashley." I jumped up from her bed and quickly made my way out of her room, and downstairs, where the party was still going strong. _Ashley freaken Davies… just kissed me!_

"Spencer! Leaving already?"

I spun around from the front door, my hand still on the doorknob. Kyla, wrapped up in Aiden's arms, gave me a warm smile. _Ugh, does he ever leave her side?_

"Yeah, uh, I've got work tomorrow."

Kyla nodded in understanding and pulled away from the jock who never spoke. She strode towards me and patted my shoulder. _Who does that?_ "You did great tonight, kid." _Wait, you're several inches shorter than me and_ I'm _the kid?_ "With some practice on your double-clutching and timing on gear change, you can start racing the big guns."

Could I get another pat on my shoulder for that compliment? The Davies knew how to stroke egos when they felt like it! "Thanks, Kyla. That means a lot." _I'll let the kid-thing slide._

Kyla stepped back, still smiling. "Helping my sister means a lot. You really saved her from a lot of trouble tonight. But you know you still owe me a car, right?"

* * *

I smiled as I neared Arthur's Raceway Stop in the red pickup. Nothing could possibly take away my good mood, even if I had to work on a Saturday. Normally I'd kick against it. But today, oh today I felt so good. I subconsciously rubbed my cheek where Ashley had kissed me last night. Butterflies were flying all over. I was even smiling! At 8AM, on a Saturday morning, which was unheard of. My dad was going to be _so_ freaked out. I even bought him a coffee.

My good mood _was_ ruined, however, when I heard sirens behind me, and realized I was being pulled over by an unmarked police car. _Maybe I'd have to get laid to not let them ruin my Saturdays for me_. I sighed and indicated to pull over.

"Show me your hands," a strong, female voice howled over a megaphone.

 _What the hell?_ I held my hands up in the air as they requested, and noticed from the rearview mirror that the male officer had a gun pointed at me. _Really?_

"Good, now open the door. Then put your hands behind your head," the female voice instructed again.

 _This is ridiculous!_ I wanted to protest, but remained calm instead, knowing well how me not following orders got me into trouble. I stepped out of the pickup and slowly put my hands on my head, facing away from the street.

The two officers came closer to me; the female officer patted me down and the uniformed male officer put cuffs on my wrists. "She's good to go, Sarge."

I waited until I was escorted into the car before I opened my mouth. "Really, Sarge? You had to do this in the street, practically in front of my _dad's shop_?"

Sergeant Chelsea Lewis smirked. "You know the drill, Carlin. This shit has to look real." Then, turning to the male officer. "Drive Jackson, you know the location."

I sighed in frustration. My Saturday _was_ officially ruined. But I should have expected this – we had debriefing after all major events or breakthroughs. I wouldn't say that I had a breakthrough, but my time at the street race had given me some intel on how things worked and possible suspects. And then there was the run-in with that girl named _Carmen_. Things were about to get very interesting.

I slumped down on the backseat, trying to cheer myself up again by thinking about Ashley. I wondered what she was doing today. Maybe she was working at their coffee shop. Or maybe she was still sleeping – she _did_ look tired last night. I wondered all kinds of things about her. What her daily routine was like, why she had so many Accounting books on her desk, how she learnt to drive so well, why she switched places with Kyla when we raced… And to the more personal; like what it would feel like to kiss her on the lips, what she tasted like, what she looked like underneath that tank top, underneath those sexy fitting cargos, what it would sound like when she screamed my name – _Oh God, Spencer Carlin stop!_

My face was of course, bright red and on fire. _Think… work. Think… debriefing, Think… Paula's snarl_ – yip, that did it for me. My private blush was instantly gone and a trickle of fear replaced all signs of lust as I thought of my boss's FBI supervisor. _Could that lady be any more scary?_

I've had a couple of bad run-ins with our FBI supervisor, Special Agent Paula Montanio. She was a tall, skinny blonde, piercing blue eyes, probably in her forties, and very strict. If you put the two of us next to each other you'd probably think she was my mother. I'd just die. This woman was more the mother of the devil. We just didn't click. She claimed I had an attitude problem, while I claimed she had, well, a huge ego. A lot of people let their job titles get to their heads, didn't they? I don't know, there was just something about her… something you'd feel when you're in a scary movie and you're at that point where you see the killer and you make a dash for it, even if it's _willingly_ up the stairs where you're going to die anyway. Yeah, she's _that_ scary.

We finally parked at our debriefing spot; a house in Hollywood Hills, that previously belonged to some actress or something. _Who cares?_

"Sarge can you please let me out of these things already?" I growled, indicating to the cuffs that were leaving scuff marks on my wrists.

The uniformed officer stepped in and released me from the intimidating article. _It makes me feel like such a fucking criminal._ "Thanks, _officer_." No, that was not sarcasm. I could show my gratitude, couldn't I?

Sergeant Lewis only smiled and led the way into the house.

What should have been some lush, open _home_ , was now converted into an undercover headquarter office unit. Several desks were neatly placed all around, but unceremoniously covered in heaps of paperwork. _Oh, and computers_. Underneath all the junk. The walls were covered with photographs, maps, rap sheets – some stuck on with sticky tack, others with clear tape. _Hopefully no gum in that mix!_ I glanced around to take everything in, suddenly feeling part of something so… dare I say, undercover and TV-like. _It really does look like we're in the movies_!

It was all so cliché, but all so exciting at the same time; watching detectives scamper around with would-be leads and dead-end paperwork. Sometimes I surprised myself for having chosen this profession.

"Okay, here she is, fresh from illegal street racing and a night out on the town," Chelsea announced to her FBI supervisor.

I had every right to be scared of her. "That was an eighty-thousand dollar vehicle, Officer Carlin."

 _What, not even a hello today, Paula?_

"Hey, did you tell her what happened?" I asked my Sergeant, ready to defend myself. Not even minding my manners, or that they were all superior to my rank. "No, wait, you know what?"

"Spencer – " Chelsea interrupted me.

Of _course_ I didn't stop. "Why don't you send the bill over to Carmen _whatever-her-surname-is_? Who you conveniently forgot to mention was part of your investigation?" Did I mention before that I always get myself into trouble?

Paula's light blue eyes turned into shotguns. I could hear the fictional pump action as it loaded, ready to blast me. "Kid's giving me attitude again, Lewis? That doesn't speak well for FBI-Police Relations now, does it?" Her threats fell on deaf ears to me, but Chelsea was getting nervous.

"Alright, let's all just take a step back," Chelsea stepped in. "Why don't we talk this out, in the lounge, like _adults_? Who wants some coffee?"

I admired my Sergeant for her levelheadedness. We've known each other for my entire Police career. Six years to be exact. I had met her while I was at the Academy, I had just started and she was already in her second year. Then, we met up again when I subsequently also joined the LAPD. Along the lines she had been promoted several times and was now my Sergeant, while I was working hard to be a Detective. It had always been my dream. And I was so close to achieving it, if I could just sometimes learn how to keep my mouth shut. Like today. Someone like Paula could make or break your career. I just hoped she was already past menopause and her opinion of me wouldn't accidentally be clouded by PMS or something. I really, _really_ wanted to become a Detective.

"Carlin? Coffee?" Chelsea interrupted my inner rantings.

"Yeah," I shrugged, following them into the lounge. For a supposedly famous actress' ex-house, the lounge was disappointingly small. Crammed. _Or maybe it's the ego in here_. I sat down on an old couch, wishing it could swallow me in. Instead, it was rock hard and uncomfortable.

Chelsea's tag-along officer dished out coffees, and for the first time since I got picked up this morning, I felt a little bit more relaxed. Caffeine didn't keep me up at night, but the fix definitely calmed me down.

"Five hijackings in two months, and we still don't have anything solid," Paula started. She paced back and forth, making me feel like I was watching a tennis match. I occasionally glanced at Chelsea just to keep myself from getting sea-sick.

"The TV's and sound systems alone were worth two million, which brings the grand total to eight million, give or take." Paula paused to take a sip of her coffee.

"It's not only about the hijackings, safety, and insurance costs anymore, Spencer, this highly organized crime has now landed under the noses of politicians as well," Chelsea mentioned.

I busied myself by taking sips of the coffee, trying hard not to get nervous. This was such a big case. And if I blew it, I would never get that Detective badge. I would probably be demoted entirely, and closest to being in law enforcement was to become a janitor at a local police station.

"Officer Carlin," Paula continued, "the FBI can help you get that Detective badge real quickly, but you really need to help us out here." She looked me right in the eyes, as if having read my mind. _Or, what you meant to say was, the FBI can also help you lose your job, real quickly, but you really need to help us screw this up soon then._

I swallowed hard and decided that I had to do everything in my power to keep these people happy. I had the skills. And I had the opportunity. This was the time to prove myself. I faced Chelsea.

"What did the truck driver say?" I referred to the latest incident, the two million dollar heist.

"It was the same modus operandi. Three black Honda Civics, same green neon under glow, same tire treads as proved by the lab results. Tires used in the street racing industry," Chelsea filled me in.

"You know that these truck drivers are threatening to take matters into their own hands. And I don't blame them. But under law enforcement we cannot condone such behavior. We've been telling them that we're on this, but for how long, Officer Carlin?" Paula was really starting to piss me off.

I finally found my mojo and got all serious and down to business. "Look, with the information we have so far, what do we know? Our investigation is focused on the Davies', and I'm not necessarily saying that _they're_ _not_ the ones jacking the trucks, but I can guarantee you that _if_ they're not, Kyla Davies will sure as hell know who it is." I got up from the couch to gain some leverage. No-one would take me serious sitting down. "It's just a matter of time – "

"You want time, you buy the magazine," Paula interrupted me. _Are you being serious right now? I was on a roll there, Paula!_ "We don't have time. You need to give me something to work with, and soon."

I watched Paula leave the lounge, leaving Chelsea chuckling, probably also stunned at the attempted sarcastic joke. "Hey Sarge?"

"Yeah?"

I cleared my throat. "I'm gonna need another car."


	7. Chapter 6 : Infatuation

**Ashley : Infatuation**

My mind was everywhere except where it needed to be.

I had midterms this week, Kyla was breathing down my neck about the Desert Quarter and more races, and some dry run of something, and I had orders to do for the coffee shop…

But none of these things came close to the one headline in my brain : Spencer Wilson.

Ever since that night, I haven't been able to get her out of my head. Gone were Kyla's warnings about her, or even my own reservations about her lying and criminal record. Not that Kyla's opinion mattered anymore anyway – I've heard her mention Spencer's name more than I could count on one hand since she'd brought me home after my close call with the cops. I guess it was safe to say that Spencer was now in Kyla's good graces.

"Ashley, can you put your books down for one second and help me out here?"

I looked up at Madison, who had been playing around with the window tinting on her car all morning. It wasn't my choice to join them all at Kyla's garage on a Sunday, I mean, there was nothing for me to do. I wasn't interested in getting my hands dirty, I had more important things to worry about, like Spencer. And midterms. Maybe not in that order. But Kyla insisted that I get out for a bit.

"Uhm, no thanks," I replied to Madison, keeping my voice even. I still wondered where she got off that I was ever interested in her. She reminded me too much of Kyla, and although very attractive, brunette was not my type. Give me blonde – like Spencer – and maybe I'd reconsider. _Eeeeew, not even then. Madison's just not, ugh, she's definitely not your type._

I heard a faint grunt from Madison and just ignored her, eager to get back to my _Foundations in Audit_ textbook. Or more like hiding my face _behind_ the book so I could drool some more about Spencer.

The blue-eyed blonde was really stunning. It felt like there was a special connection between us – it was difficult to pinpoint exactly what. I just felt so comfortable around her. And safe. _Very_ safe. Ironic, isn't it, to feel safe with a criminal? And though it didn't really matter to me because it's never been my thing, it was quite hot the way Spencer could drive a car. And raced. It was sort of a common interest between the two of us. I wondered how old she was. Though she looked like a freshman, I could tell she was insulted by my judgment of her. Hey, at the age of twenty-five, you're not really supposed to read people that well already, are you? Unless you went to college full-time and could separate assholes from bigger assholes.

"What the hell is that?"

The surprise in Kyla's voice made me look up, and chuckle, as a tow truck appeared in front of the garage roll-up door, with a fairly beaten up Toyota Supra strapped to the lowbed.

"You said I still owed you a car."

I could recognize her voice from a crowd of millions. _Spencer_. A warm feeling shot through my body as I imagined that voice screaming my name. _Oh the things I could do to you in my be–_

"Hi Ashley." Spencer peeked into the garage and waved at me. It was a good thing I was sitting down. Hiding, behind a book. She wore her usual nice-fitting jeans, a T-shirt of a band I didn't know, and of course, the Converse. Now that I was used to seeing her like that, I thought it was kind of cute. Strange, but cute. I just waved back, not quite ready to speak yet.

"When I said you owed me a car, I meant it had to be able to drive itself across a finish line," Kyla mused. It was refreshing to hear her in a good mood for a change.

Spencer laughed. "Trust me on this, Kyla, she will."

I watched the scene unfold in front of me with awe as Spencer instantly made friends with the entire crew. She seemed to draw people towards her. I wondered how she did that.

Clay jumped up onto the lowbed, eager to inspect the piece of junk with potential to do miracles, like Spencer promised. "She is a beauty, Kyla. '95 Supra Turbo – so much potential here. She's gonna need some work, though."

"Alright, let's get her offloaded then, shall we?" Kyla ordered. She gave the tow truck driver some instructions, and twenty minutes later they had the car on the garage floor.

Clay was still in his element. He popped the hood and whistled. "Spencer, with twenty thousand, max, this beauty will be a killer on the road. You could easily win some big bucks at the Desert Quarter!"

Kyla was being generous. "Clay, let's get started with the parts list then. We can put it on my tab at Arthur's." She turned and smiled at Spencer. "When you're not working at Arthur's, you'll be working here. We have less than three weeks and in the meantime you'll need to win me some street races to make up the cash."

I stared at Spencer in disbelief. She seemed really happy about this! Did she not realize what she was getting herself into? No-one willingly let Kyla Davies own their ass!

* * *

"So… what's with all the books, are _you_ still in college, Davies?"

I blushed, not realizing that Spencer had paid that much attention. I busied myself by chopping tomatoes, unable to meet her striking blue eyes. "Yeah, I uh, I'm studying part-time."

I dared to steal a glance at her reaction.

She raised a brow, seemingly impressed. "Oh? What are you majoring in?" She stepped closer and stole a tomato wedge, chucking it into her mouth before I could protest.

"Accounting. I might go into Forensic Accounting after that."

"What? Wow, that is really impressive, Ashley!" Her genuine excitement made me smile. "So, tell me more? What made you choose that?"

I shrugged, continuing with the chopping. "I guess I just always had a thing for numbers."

"So beauty _and_ brains… hmm," Spencer whispered close to my ear. She was teasing me, I knew that much. But the way she did it made my knees weak. I could hardly focus, let alone keep my fingers safe from being chopped off.

"Ashley! Are you done with the salad?" Kyla yelled from outside.

I sighed, annoyed by Kyla's interruption. It was nice having Spencer standing so close to me, giving me goosebumps. She smelled so fresh, her breath minty and her scent a delicious perfume I couldn't identify.

I appreciated that Kyla had invited Spencer to have lunch with us. It's been quite an exciting day after all, I would never have thought my Sunday would turn out like this. I still did have midterms to worry about and also the next coffee bean orders for the shop, but right now, being right here with Spencer, was all I needed. Well, of course, until we were interrupted.

I peeked through the open kitchen window to the patio outside. Aiden was busy grilling steaks, Madison and Clay were in some heated discussion about cars, and Kyla, of course, were attached to Aiden. It was sickening to watch them sometimes. I still wondered what she saw in that guy. He was a typical jock, wait, a lovesick puppy jock, and it was amazing how Kyla had him wrapped around her little finger. He rarely spoke – whether that was out of his own accord or because Kyla never gave him chance to – we'd never know. But it didn't seem like there was much between the ears except driving skills and fixing cars. That was the only credit I could give him.

"Almost ready, Ky!" I replied through the open window.

Turning my attention back to the salad, and Spencer, I realized that she'd grabbed a cutting board and had done half the ingredients already. I blushed for the umpteenth time. She was amazing.

"Can't keep the hungry people waiting, now can we?" she smirked.

* * *

Lunch was pleasantly delightful. Everybody got along fairly well, even Madison behaved herself for a change. I enjoyed listening to tales of Spencer's go-karting days at Arthur's, and Kyla even managed to share some good racing stories of our father. Kyla seemed to have completely let Spencer into our little family, which was more than okay by me. I hoped she would be as accepting when I talked to her about maybe taking Spencer out on a date. Not that I needed her permission, but as much as I chose to live life by my own rules, I still wanted Kyla's support.

We were back in the kitchen, Spencer and I, cleaning up and dishing up dessert. I enjoyed spending time with her, even if it was in such odd places. There was just this natural gravitational pull between the two of us.

"Can I ask you something?"

I stopped scooping ice cream and turned to face Spencer. She suddenly seemed very shy. "Yeah, go ahead," I offered reassuringly.

"Will you go out on a date with me?" She blushed profusely, and suddenly found the floor very interesting.

My heart leaped. _Really? Can someone pinch me, like, right now?_ I stared at her for a second, open mouthed, and I'm sure I caught some flying insects while I was at it. The silence was becoming overbearing, and I realized I should probably respond _. Engage brain with mouth, Davies._

"That would be… wow, yes! I would love to!" I gave a smile so wide I could feel my jaw hurt.

Spencer's head shot up and her face lit up. Her own smile reached her eyes and just made my stomach do flip-flops. "How does next week Friday sound? I'll pick you up at 8?"

I couldn't be happier. How was I ever going to make it through midterms the next two weeks? "That's perfect. Do you have a specific place in mind?"

Spencer seemed to have planned this out already. "I do, but if you want to go to a place of your choice we can do that, I – "

I touched her arm, and it sent an electric jolt through me. Our eyes met, and I knew she felt it too.

"I'll go wherever you take me." She was so close to me I was sure she could hear my heartbeat.

She smiled softly. "It will be worth it, I promise."

I wasn't sure if it was just me, but things got very heated very quickly. If Spencer didn't step away from me soon I wouldn't be able to restrain myself from kissing her. So I did what Ashley Davies would normally do, and totally made things awkward by shoving a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. Then I picked up two dished bowls to go and feed my lazy housemates.

Spencer chuckled and stepped back, breaking the heat between us. She was about to pick up two bowls of ice cream but then paused.

"Wait," she stopped me. I turned to face her. "You have ice cream on your face… right… here." Spencer gently rubbed her thumb over my lips, her eyes turning a slight shade darker as she looked into mine. I lost all resolve and dumped the bowls onto the table, unconcerned about the clattering noise it made.

My hands had somehow made its way to the sides of her head, pulling her face close to mine. My lips brushed against hers, and when she didn't pull back, I leaned in further and planted a kiss on her lips so gentle that a soft whimper escaped her. My insides literally melted. And my breath hitched, as I suddenly felt hands cupping my own face, Spencer's delicate lips back on mine. If the world ended right this second, I'd die happy…

"Ahem…"

Or I could die from embarrassment. Kyla made me feel like an impish teenager the way Spencer quickly pulled away from me, and she stood waiting in the kitchen door, her arms folded across her chest. "I just came to see if the ice cream was okay."


	8. Chapter 7 : Blackout

**Spencer : Blackout**

 _Ugh. I hate Mondays._

It was actually Wednesday, but every weekday felt like a Monday to me. I glanced over at my alarm clock. 7:30AM. _Shit!_. I was going to be late for work, _again_. I've been up until morning hours this entire week, texting Ashley until she'd finished studying and went to bed. Thereafter I'd stay up and reread all our messages, smiling, blushing, and some more blushing, until I would finally fall asleep.

I couldn't wait for her midterms to finish. And I couldn't wait for Friday to come. I had gone all out with planning our date. Starting at a little Italian restaurant off in Main Street, not too far from my loft, then dessert at a small ice cream parlor not far from Dad's shop. And thereafter, I'd decided, to treat her to some go-kart racing. _Yeah, I know, cliché_. But she really seemed to enjoy the stories I told them that Sunday about my kart racing days, and teaching boys to race. I thought I'd just let her in about one true aspect of my life. The rest was pretty much all lies.

I felt very uncomfortable lying to Ashley. In fact, going on a date with someone I was investigating was already terms for a disciplinary hearing. But I could throw it out there as part of my job. I just wasn't sure how terrible of a person I wanted to become to actually go through with this.

I glanced at my phone, forgetting all about worrying about lies and being a good person.

 **06:20 – Ashley : Can't keep you off my mind. Have a great day xoxo**

I couldn't help but smile, and hit the reply button.

 **07:32 – Spencer : Ashley Davies, are you a) available b) ready for our date c) excited d) all of the above? Choose wisely, both here and with your midterm. Good luck today, thinking of you xxx**

Ashley was special. There was something different about her. Something screamed to me that she shouldn't have been locked up for those two years that she spent in prison – there was an untold story there, and I was going to find out what it was. I just really hoped that I could find something, _anything_ , to steer our investigation away from the Davies with regards to the hijackings. I was starting to believe that they were not involved, and to be honest, I would be really happy if they weren't. Which meant that I had to work a little harder to get more intel.

I jumped out of bed and took a quick shower, my eye constantly on the alarm clock. I had to be at Dad's shop by 8AM; I had to debrief with him where we were standing and possible updates that could affect him. I wished he didn't have to be involved. We were dealing with dangerous people and I would never forgive myself if my father had to get hurt because of my job. _Gotta suck it up, Spencer._

* * *

"You're late."

I glanced at my watch. It was 8:02AM. _Really?_ Hurrying towards Sergeant Lewis and my dad, I flashed an apologetic smile. "Sorry guys, traffic." I kissed my dad on the cheek and took the coffee Chelsea held out to me.

They exchanged knowing looks.

"Oh come _on_ , it's two minutes!"

"Officer Carlin," Chelsea addressed me, and I knew when she did that, there wasn't really an excuse. I shouldn't have been late.

My dad chuckled, but then cleared his throat and turned serious. This was serious business after all.

"Right, let's start," Chelsea announced, leaning against a glass counter. She glanced at my dad. "Arthur, have you picked up anything on your side? Any purchases standing out, Honda Civic-specific parts? Any red flags?"

Arthur shook his head. "None whatsoever. Remember that there is an upcoming Desert Quarter Mile event, which could mean one of two things; either there could be a bust still ahead of that for a cash injection to buy last minute parts for the race, or, a bust afterwards after winning some race money to improve the Civics."

Chelsea nodded slowly. "Interesting theory. When exactly is this event?"

I spoke up. "It starts on Sunday. That's why we're building up the Supra, I will be participating."

I felt my dad's concerned glare, but refused to meet his eyes.

Chelsea was oblivious to our silent conversation, and continued. "Okay, so basically what we're looking at is a potential jacking in the next couple of days, otherwise afterwards. It's good; we can start working with shipping companies and retailers to get a feel for their logistics schedules one week ahead. It's an enormous task, and frankly, almost too many trucks and routes to cover with patrol vehicles for a week, but until we get more intel, I think that's what we will start working towards."

My personal thought was that it was impossible to do that, but Chelsea was right, we still didn't have any other solid information. I really had to start digging deeper.

"Spencer, you need to try and get more intel on the Davies' sisters. We'll get a list of all their properties that they own, I'll need you to go check them out and see if you can find those cars. They must belong to someone."

I nodded, accepting my Sergeant's orders.

This shit just got serious.

* * *

"Spencer, isn't it?"

I looked up, the familiar voice reminding me of the nauseating kiss I received on my hand. "Hey Glen! How are you?" _And how's the Eminem wardrobe working out for you?_

"I'm good, I'm good. How are you doing, gorgeous? Nice second place the other night, you had me surprised there, girl!"

I smiled smugly. I knew they all thought I was going to come in last, or total the engine or my car. "Beginner's luck, I guess."

"Nah, I doubt that. You were a natural. So, I need to place an order for some parts – do I need to speak to Arthur or can I speak to you?"

I straightened up behind the counter and grabbed the keyboard and mouse. "Tell me what you need and I'll hook you right up."

Glen reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "I made a list, I need three of everything on here." He pushed it towards me.

I started entering the manufacturer number supplied on the list, and was temporary taken aback when I realized Glen was here to buy parts for Honda Civics. Three of them. "By when do you need the stuff by?"

"Now? Today?"

"Alright, I'll see what I can do." I entered all the items into the stock system to see what we had available.

My heart pounded loud in my ears, and I tried to conceal my excitement by busying myself with the parts order. _This has got to be it. Oh, man, this has got to be it!_

* * *

 _Now_ this _is the exciting part._

I switched off the headlights as I drove into the back street of Glen's garage. They were having a huge party on the street corner, so I figured it was quite safe for me to go and check out what they had hidden. Or more specifically, where the Civics were hidden.

I parked the pickup out of sight, and glanced up at the tall building. The only way for me to get in was to go through the roof. Thank goodness there was a fire escape ladder attached to the side of the wall.

I knew as a cop I was supposed to be able to be all _Spiderman_ and stealthily make my way in there, but this was real life. I still needed some form of aid to climb walls. I just wished it was safe enough for me to bring along my gun, but there was too much of a risk of blowing my cover. So I was armed with a torch and my fake ID. Wow, who'd thought I'd need one of those after I hit 21?

I quietly scaled the fire escape, and sighed in relief when I spotted the skylight. One of the windows were already broken, making things just a tad little bit easier for me. All the lights were off inside, automatically clearing the premises of any people after hours.

I lowered myself through the window and landed on the floor with a soft thud. On my feet. _Go Carlin!_ The garage was fairly wide, but not too big, which was a relief. It would be easy for me to identify any immediate danger.

I tiptoed around, flashlight facing forward, and finally found my prized possessions. Three black Honda Civics, on hydraulic lifts, waiting for its parts. _Jackpot!_ I started noting details of the cars, looking for tell-tale items that the truckers have spotted during their hijacking incidents. My heart slowly started sinking as I couldn't find any under carriage neon lighting, and neither was the tires the same as Chelsea had mentioned. This would have been the bust of the century.

Unfortunately for me, Mr. Slim Shady's twin was off the hook, for now…

Getting back out was a lot more difficult than just jumping through the skylight. I had to climb onto things like I used to when jungle gyms were parents' worst nightmares. I was sure I was pulling some unused muscles as I jumped and grabbed and swung around, finally clutching onto the frame of the window in the roof. Of course, all the exercise I'd just done was no match to the inevitable pull-up I had to do to get myself back onto the roof. Now don't get me wrong, I did well at the Academy, and still went to the gym every day before going in to work – until I started this undercover gig. So I was fit, and my body was in good shape. But it didn't mean it was as easy as doing things at the gym where beams and bars were softly padded. Here I had to deal with broken glass cutting into my hands while trying to pull my own body weight out onto a roof. Through a window. With a flashlight gagging me, and a mind plagued by images of a particular brunette's very sexy abs – abs that she definitely didn't get by doing pull-ups through broken skylights.

My arms felt like jelly by the time I slid down the fire escape. _You_ definitely _have to get back to the gym, Carlin._ I tiptoed around the back of the garage to make my way to the pickup. I hoped it was still there. You never know these days…

Regaining energy as I straightened up, I was now fine to make a quick escape out of this industrial area. It was starting to freak me out. _The pickup was around_ that _corner, I thi –_

 _Thump!_

Everything around me went blank.


	9. Chapter 8 : Behind enemy lines

**A/N : Warning : Short chapter ahead!**

* * *

 **Kyla : Behind enemy lines**

"Wake her up."

"I'm telling you, Kyla, she's a cop."

"Madison, just wake her up!"

 _For fuck's sake! How difficult can it be to just follow one simple order?_ My patience was wearing thin. Between Madison's paranoia and inability to listen, Ashley's constant stupidity, and trying to keep tabs on Spencer, my nerves were shot.

"What… happened?"

I didn't feel a slightest tinge of guilt for having knocked Spencer out with the handle of my gun – she had to know that I wasn't someone to mess with.

"Spencer, this is one of those times that you need to be very clear about what you say." I kept my face straight and stepped into the flickering streetlight for the blonde to see me, my gun pointing towards her, and Madison beside me, another gun pointed at the blonde. "Madison, help her up."

Madison grabbed Spencer's arm and roughly pulled her to sit up. She looked utterly confused, probably had a bit of a concussion after that knock. _Good, let it hurt for a couple of days_.

"Care to tell me what the fuck you're doing out here?"

I considered myself a pretty good judge of character. After years of dealing with scumbags, I've learned one very valuable lesson. And that was to take time and observe people's reactions, their body language, gestures, and facial expressions. I could tell liars from a mile away. And right now, all I wanted to know was whether Spencer was one of them.

I haven't used my gun in over a week. My fingers were itching on the safety switch and trigger. People had to understand how things worked around here. Stakes were high for me, and subsequently my family. I had to do whatever I could to protect the Davies name, street cred, and plans for early retirement . So getting rid of a threat was not a problem for me, I didn't care who that person was. And since Spencer made it so easy to come out here, to the slum of LA's industrial areas, it would be fairly easy to get rid of her body.

Spencer rubbed the back of her head, wincing noticeably. "I uh-"

The pause set off alarms. I watched her carefully, but realized she was still probably a bit out of it.

"Kyla, these guys… " Spencer started panting. She grabbed the back of her head again. "I'm sorry, I've been doing some checks on high purchases… I know it's a low thing to do…" More panting.

Her broken sentences didn't make any sense. But the pauses in-between wasn't long enough to validate Spencer trying to make up a lie. It seemed more like she was out of breath than anything else.

"I'm just trying to… get a bit of a head-start on Desert Quarter… I need to win Kyla, I need money to pay you… so I thought I'd check it out… Glen paid a lot of money today for upgrades…"

I finally started putting the pieces together. _You sly bitch_. "So what are you saying? Are you gonna go around and check everybody's shit out? One garage after another?"

"Just the big ones… " Spencer practically pleaded for her life. Our guns were still pointing at her.

I glanced at Madison, who was shaking her head in disbelief. "Bullshit. She's a cop, Kyla, I'm telling you."

Spencer looked me in the eyes and silently disagreed.

"She's a fucking cop!" Madison released the safety on her gun, and pressed the barrel against Spencer's temple.

I took a deep breath, holding Spencer's gaze. "Are you a cop, Spencer Wilson?"

Not as much as a flinch, or a twitch of the eye. "I swear, Kyla, I'm not."

I had my reservations, but decided to let things with Spencer play out a little. Maybe I could use her to get Ashley away from college and back into racing, just until we left for Mexico. It was so obvious that Ashley was smitten with her. What harm could it do? "Let's go take a drive."

* * *

Spencer was a little off-balance and dizzy by the time we reached a place I've itched to come to for a long time. I helped her up the fire escape and down through the skylight right into Carmen's garage. I jumped in after her, and Madison followed suit.

 _Fuck. Me._

I was stunned. Jealous, mostly, but stunned. This garage was huge. The floor was tiled and spotless. There were four hydraulic lifts, each sporting a race car. Three Civics and two Ferrari's were parked on the floor. We barely missed hundreds of boxes of what looked like sound systems when we jumped in through the window. I knew Carmen had money. She was born into a wealthy family, and beside that, she was always up to mischief, probably stealing more money from other people. So I didn't quite understand why she insisted on racing and doing the Desert Quarter for all these years, but hardly ever beat me. She had all the money in the world to rig out the cars. _Shows you what a fucking terrible driver she is._

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Spencer and Madison heading over to the Civics. The hoods were open, and it sparked my own curiosity .

"No engines," Madison observed at the gaping holes inside the compartments. _No fucking shit, Sherlock_.

" _Kyla, we've got incoming, they're headed your way_." _Fuck_. That was Clay, who was one street down on checkout.

"Get to the back!" I urged, running for cover to the back of the garage. Spencer and Madison barely squatted beside me when the garage doors started opening.

The familiar buzzing of Carmen's bike brigade signaled that they were inside. I dared to peek around the trunk of a Civic, and noticed that they had a visitor with them. It was another parts shop owner, who I never liked to deal with. Arthur had been good to us the past couple of years.

Carmen's voice filled the open space. "Bring him closer – show him the Civics. So… Joe, what do you see?"

"I see cars."

 _Slap_.

"And what do you think is _wrong_ with these cars? Because I can tell you, we have a _major_ fucking problem here."

"Okay, okay, it's the engines! There's no engines!"

The guy sounded like he was getting a beating. He coughed and gargled. _Disgusting_.

"So are you going to tell me where they are, Joe? Desert Quarter is around the corner, and I'm getting _really_ nervous here."

Another round of beating followed.

I glanced over at Madison, who looked ready to jump out and start shooting. _Is she fucking crazy?_ When I got her attention, I gestured with both my hands and head that she put her gun away.

Spencer didn't seem too worried, she was calmly listening to the conversation.

"It's in the warehouse! In the warehouse, Carmen!"

So… it was set then. Both Glen and Carmen were rigging up Civics for racing. I suddenly admired Spencer for her clever thinking. She was an idiot for thinking she could get away with this, but the kid had some brains. If I could put Carmen in her place at Desert Quarter, my credibility would triple. And I'd rip Carmen's territory right from underneath her while I'm at it.


	10. Chapter 9 : Unpleasant Truths

**Spencer : Unpleasant Truths**

I really hated Kyla right now. There was a huge bump at the back of my head, preventing me from getting a good night's sleep. Not to mention the splitting headache and constant dizziness I felt. Chelsea had suggested I go have it checked out, but would it be surprising if I mention that I don't follow orders that well? I don't know why I like to punish myself like that. Surely by now I'd realize every instruction I dismissed had consequences? One day I'd be caught up in a bad consequence and probably hate myself for it.

"Officer Carlin, are you following?"

 _What?_

I looked up at Paula, the blank look on my face spurring on the repugnance she radiated towards me.

"Sergeant Lewis, I suggest in future, if we get high profile cases like these again, I want to screen the officers that you plan to put undercover. I cannot work with – "

"Special Agent Montanio, I can assure you that Officer Carlin is one of our best," Chelsea defended me angrily. I felt so bad for putting her in this position every single time. "She's gone through great lengths last night to get this intel, and despite my instructions to get the head injury checked out, she is here right now. So can we please continue?"

 _Wow_. I've never heard Chelsea lose her temper like that before. I felt partly guilty for driving her insane. The other part, not so much. Special Agent _Paula_ needed to chill. Just a little.

"Very well," Paula agreed. She threw me a dirty look and started pacing the kitchen. Yeah, we were at the house-turned-headquarters again. It never ceased to amaze me how many people were positioned here, yet I was the only one making progress. And Paula wanted to give _me_ shit? What about Mr. Douchebag Patrick over there, who was already a detective in our department, but couldn't even come up with structured sentences, never mind leads to this case? It annoyed me so much that he was here. With us, in the kitchen. I couldn't remember extending an invitation.

"My superiors are flying in from D.C. the day after tomorrow, and I need something to show them. Now; we have a garage full of cars, automatic weapons, and dare I even mention hundreds of boxes of sound systems and TV's? Each member of Carmen's crew has rap sheets against them, and they all sport general psychotic behavior, taking in consideration what you've told me about last night and your previous encounter with them. So tell me _why_ we shouldn't move in on Carmen Mendez _right_ _now_?"

I stared at Paula, wondering if she was for real. "Because all we _have_ is behavior! Don't you think we should get some hard evidence? Because what we have now is just circumstantial eviden – "

"What we have is probable cause. And truckers arming themselves planning to take this situation into their own hands." I wondered for a moment if Paula had bought her position as a Special Agent, or if she'd actually gone through all the years of training all the normal people did, including maybe school, to you know, grow some common sense?

Chelsea knew me well. Before I could voice my opinion, she changed the subject. "Tell me more about Glen, Carlin?"

I sighed and leaned back against a tall cupboard, careful not to rest my head against it. "Glen's still working on the engines for the cars, but the tires don't match." It would've been the bust of a lifetime. I could still see myself stepping up onto a stage to be commended for single-handedly cracking this case by scoping out the cars of all these crazy street racers.

"And what about Kyla Davies?" Chelsea calmly persisted.

Another sigh. This headache was killing me. "Well, I told you, I think she's too controlled for this. She's heavy into the whole street credibility thing and her father's name, they're a tight-knit family. She doesn't seem like the kind who would jeopardize that."

Patrick spoke up. "I think the kid's _sister_ is blurring your perspective a little." _Oh, no you didn't…_

"What did you just say?" My blood was boiling. How _dare_ he bring Ashley into this?

"Just saying, Carlin. I'd get off on those surveillance photos too."

 _What the fuck?!_ I didn't even think of consequences – sound familiar? – when I jumped forward and pushed Patrick for all it was worth. After all, I had some muscle in me. He was just a dainty little detective who probably stopped going to the gym decades ago. Patrick crashed to the floor, and Paula stepped in between us. Chelsea grabbed my shoulders from behind. _Shit_. _What a fucking great day this is turning out to be._

"Carlin! Knock it off!" Chelsea yelled at me. She turned me to face her. "Are you going native on me, Spencer?"

I looked her in the eyes, pleading to let it go. They were partly right, but my head was on the case. I would not jeopardize my job, my life, for a girl. _Stop lying to yourself, Spencer Carlin._

"Have you read the Davies' sisters file lately, Carlin?" Chelsea asked, turning her attention away from me. She had to clean up my mess again, as usual. Paula looked quite pleased with my misbehavior. _Shit_.

"Yeah, I've got it memorized." I looked over at Patrick, daring him to open his mouth again. I could _so_ take him down. _Wanker_.

"Well, read it again," Chelsea suggested calmly. "Wait, no, actually, take a look at these." She grabbed a manila envelope and pulled out some photographs. "Remember I told you about the guy Davies nearly beat to death?"

I nodded, not sure where she was going with that.

Chelsea dropped the photos on the kitchen counter, one by one. "Ashley Davies did this with a torque wrench. 'This _too_ controlled for the Davies' for you?"

I gasped. The guy really looked terrible. It was painful for me to look at the photos and believe that the girl who I had such a big crush on, did that. Was Ashley really capable of something like that? Was I going to have to take my gun on our date? _Fuck, the date!_ I suddenly felt extremely nauseous.

How did I allow this to happen? How did I allow myself to get emotionally involved? How did the guys do it? How did cops do undercover work for years and not allow themselves to get attached to people, their lives, their circumstances? Honestly, _how_ did they do it?!

The truth of what I had to do was staring me right in the eyes. And it hurt to think about it. I was going to have to use Ashley to get more information – on Kyla, on herself, their entire history, and their crew. Somebody was bound to make a mistake in their story somewhere. I just hoped it wouldn't be me.

"I need a few more days."

* * *

I had resolved to set aside all my feelings towards the Davies' and their extended family, and treat the night strictly like the undercover cop I was.

"So uh, I heard you've got big plans tonight?" Kyla hinted kindly.

I was taken aback. I finished up connecting wiring to the left headlight of the Toyota Supra, and finally looked up at her. "Yeah, we're going out to dinner."

"If you break her heart, I'll break your neck." She kept smiling but I could tell she was dead serious.

By now I knew that Kyla wasn't joking. I was concerned, because I knew things were going to get bad real soon, but I tried not to think about it. _Detective Badge… you can do this …_ "That's not gonna happen." I confirmed with a straight face.

Kyla kept her eyes on me for a moment, then put her tools down. "Come on, I want to show you something."

She was acting quite strange today. But I tried not to read too much into it. Things have really not gone that well for me, and I knew that I was in trouble. I followed Kyla outside, and she gestured for me to get into her car.

It was a short drive back to their house. Kyla seemed to know LA quite well with all the back streets she'd taken. We pulled into the driveway, and Kyla continued onto the path right to the back of the house, and parked in front of a shed. My heart leaped at what I saw when she opened the door.

It was Raife Davies' 1970 Dodge Charger, in all its glory. He had only been photographed with this car, never raced it.

"I helped my dad build this car. It's a beast."

I could hear a trace of sadness in Kyla's voice. I wondered what made her bring me here. It seemed like a sacred place for her, and I suddenly felt humbled to be included in this. _Focus, Carlin._

"He'd taken her for a couple of drag tests. Best record 9 seconds flat."

I was stunned. That was close to impossible to achieve. "Have you?" I gestured to the car. "Driven her?"

Kyla shook her head, wiping across the side, collecting dust on her fingers. "I'm too scared." It took a moment for her to recollect herself. "That's him, right there," she said finally, pointing up to a picture on a wall covered with newspaper clips of all his races. "I remember the day like it was yesterday… It was a big race, last of the season. He was coming around the final hairpin bend, and this guy named Peter came up from the inside. Clipped his bumper and pushed him into the wall at 120 miles per hour. Ashley and I watched my dad burn to death. He never had a chance."

I remember reading up about the death of Raife Davies. I couldn't even begin to imagine how his daughters must have felt to have witnessed that. My heart went out to Kyla for sharing that day with me.

"I- _Ashley_ saw Peter about a month later; he came by the garage to offer condolences. She grabbed a wrench, and she hit him. She was so broken, she couldn't stop. By the time she was done she couldn't move. He uh, his kids look after him now. He can't support his family anymore."

Chelsea's words regarding the Davies' and self-control echoed in my mind. But listening to the story from Kyla, it put things into a different perspective. I wished I could run to Ashley and hold her.

"She was only 18 years old. Old enough though to go to prison and not juvie – spent two years serving her time there. It's changed her. My dad's death changed her. Sometimes I really worry about the person she'd become. It's like she's living in a shadow of the person she used to be."

I could understand that. Of course significant life events like that would change people. But Kyla should be grateful that Ashley was trying to make good by going to college and almost graduating. She was a hard worker and wanted to live an honest life. Or was I just blinded by what I _wanted_ to see?

 _Spencer Carlin, you are in so much trouble…_


	11. Chapter 10 : Unstable

**A/N : Two very short chapters... there's method to the madness, I promise! Thanks for reading and for the reviews!**

* * *

 **Kyla : Unstable**

I had to think very carefully how I wanted to go about this. Part of me wanted to ignore everything and just run off to Mexico right after the Desert Quarter. But the other part screamed to tie up all the loose ends first, and leave in two months as I planned. I still didn't trust Spencer, so if there was any chance at all that Madison was right about her, I had to be sure that she'd never find me after retiring in Mexico. The other problem was Ashley… I needed her to go willingly. I didn't trust her either. I couldn't risk her staying behind. And killing her wasn't an option – all my off-shore accounts I'd created was in her name. So hearing about their little date-night made me very nervous, to be honest. _Why did Ashley have to go and meet someone_ now _? We're so close…_

Spencer seemed to eat up all the emotion I put into the stories I just told her. Some of it was the truth, but not everything… Not that it mattered anyway. I just had to find my angle to make her believe that Ashley was unstable, and let her play the hero she so obviously wanted to be. I knew her type – it was blatant that Spencer just loved playing the protective butch girlfriend. It was sickening, really. Especially considering how much of a wuss Ashley was. All the while I also desperately needed to distract the blonde while Clay and I dug more into her credentials. _Thanks for making me so paranoid, Madison._

"I guess things make a little bit more sense now, I mean, I haven't spent _that_ much time with Ashley but I could pick up that there's something…"

I tried to hide my triumphant smile. Spencer was _so_ into Ashley it was clear she wasn't paying attention to anything else. I wondered how she felt about the tidbit about Ashley nearly killing a guy with a torque wrench. Ashley didn't have the balls, but Spencer didn't have to know that.

I sighed, laying it down thick. "Spencer, you've got to understand something about Ashley. After jail, she kind of lost it a little. She still sees a shrink once a month. She doesn't always live in reality, if you know what I mean."

Well, _that_ got her attention. Spencer leaned against the dusty Dodge and frowned at me, waiting for an explanation.

Lies came so easily to me. And unlike most people, I could do it very convincingly. Especially to this love-sick blonde bimbo in front of me. "You know she thinks she's studying to become an Accountant, right?"

The confused look on Spencer's face was priceless. "What do you mean _she thinks_?"

"The books, the papers, the homework… it's not real. She's not enrolled anywhere, Spencer. I doubt she can even do basic multiplications." _Sorry Ash, but you can't even make a decent fucking cup of coffee._

I watched Spencer battle with her own thoughts. "But… she wrote midterms?" she finally stated, more asking, probably wanting to know how that was possible.

"She spent the last two weeks in therapy, Spencer. We need to send her away from time to time. She takes her books with her, she doesn't always know what's going on around her." Oh, the lies came easy indeed. I surprised myself at how well this was going to play out.

Spencer seemed flabbergasted. Disappointed. I couldn't believe she was eating up all this shit.

"Look, Spencer, I appreciate that you're hanging out with her. You're good for her, she's better when you're around. Please don't let what I told you affect what you two have. I just need someone to be there for her – you've basically swept her off her feet. I've haven't seen her so happy since… " I could also cry on cue – thanks to years of pretending to be a caring sister. Allowing a tear to trickle down my cheek, I watched Spencer's reaction to all the lies I've just told her. "Since my dad died…"

The blonde was obviously a softie. _Just like Ashley. No wonder they're perfect for each other_. _Fucking idiots._

"I uh, I don't really know what to say," Spencer said softly, staring at the floor. She kicked at imaginary dirt. I could tell she didn't expect any of this. She was probably going to go home and replay every second she'd spent with Ashley so far to try and find clues and signs that my idiotic sister _was_ unstable. I would give anything to be a fly on the wall on their date tonight.

"Say you'll go on that date with her tonight – she likes you and could really use a friend right now, you know?"


	12. Chapter 11 : Humane

**Ashley : Humane**

 _6 Hours and twenty minutes_. That's how long I had to wait until my date with Spencer. I was excited. I was in a good mood. I was floating. _Literally_. Donating blood just an hour ago had made me somewhat dizzy and delirious. I glanced down at the band-aid in the crook of my left elbow. It made me smile. I haven't done this in a while.

I know what you're thinking – no, I'm not some sick perverted person who gets off on needles poking my skin. I was more the kind of person who got off on doing something good for humankind. Kyla never understood me, she never understood why I did these things, and despite desperately trying for years to get her to accept me as I am – weird things and all – it suddenly didn't matter anymore what she thought of me. Only one person's opinion of me mattered now. One particular blonde who made my knees weak just at the thought of her.

I couldn't help it. Spencer just made me want to be a better person. I was already studying hard and working hard at making the coffee shop work. But sometimes I felt that I wasn't giving something back to humanity. So I spent this entire morning doing things that made me feel worthy to be on this planet. I donated blood – which I used to do before going to jail, I signed up to a beach-cleanup group, I visited a charity organization to donate some of the money the coffee shop was making to at-risk teenagers.

I enjoyed the psychological impact that Spencer had on me. And in return, it made me want to have a good psychological impact on someone else – indirectly, of course.

But that was not the only reason I did all of these things.

The coffee shop was starting to make a lot more money. The bad tasting coffee beans I'd imported was for a specific reason. Apart from Spencer, who obviously had an agenda to drink the terrible coffee, all my regular customers stuck with me – despite the bad batch of coffee. I'd kept the price the same, but now, when I received my proper coffee beans again, I was able to increase each cup price by a couple of cents, without losing any customers. In fact, they gladly paid more for better coffee. I even gained some new customers.

What I've done wasn't a practical assignment for school, but because I had the coffee shop, I was able to test everything I'd learned and see if it worked in the real world. It also helped me remember things better when I wrote midterms. I knew I was going to ace it.

My concern was what to do with all the additional money. Kyla wasn't the only Davies who could hide things. And even though I wouldn't mind having more money of my own, I yearned to do something good for less fortunate people. Hence the reason I visited the charity organization. I was going to start sending them a cut of the profits after I managed to break even. In return, they would send customers my way. I thought that was quite reasonable.

I smiled as my phone vibrated and I saw who the text message was from.

 **13: 50 – Spencer : Can't wait to see you tonight xxx**

 _6 Hours and ten minutes…_ I couldn't help counting down.

 **13:51 – Ashley : I'm counting down the minutes xoxo**

And I _was_. Spencer made me feel like I existed on this planet. It wasn't just all about racing and cars to her. I mattered – _really_ mattered. I was going to show her tonight just how much she mattered to me too.


	13. Chapter 12 : Unreasonable Doubts

**Spencer : Unreasonable doubts**

"How did you know that I love Italian food?"

I looked up from my menu, staring at those beautiful chocolate brown eyes. Somehow they seemed deeper tonight. My very sad heart skipped a beat. "Maybe you should leave the judging of character up to the pros?"

Ashley threw her head back and laughed. It was a good thing I was sitting, my knees were mush from the moment I saw her. Dressed in a very fitting black, strapless, summer dress, she was breathtaking. Everything about her was beautiful. _I just don't understand…_

"So, tell me, Miss Wilson, pro judge of character, who do you see in front of you?" Ashley challenged.

She made it too easy for me. "Ladies? Are you ready to place your order?"

I tried to hide my disappointment at being interrupted. "The beautiful lady over here will have…"

"Fettuccine Alfredo," Ashley confirmed.

I smiled at her choice. This restaurant made _the_ best Alfredo in town. "I'll have your House Beef Meatballs." Which was also the best spaghetti and meatballs in town.

Our waiter smiled knowingly. "And would you like me to fill up your glasses?" He pointed to our wine glasses, already down to a quarter.

"Thank you," I gestured for him to do so.

Once the waiter left, I was already lost in my train of thought. Ashley came to my rescue, eager to know what I thought of her. "So, shall we continue? Who do you think I am?"

I chuckled. "Okay, well, I do have a bit of an advantage since I know you a little by now. But let me see… Beautiful, smart, _numbers_ lady; that's what I know. My guess is that you're between 23 and 25, you were born and raised in LA, and unfortunate life events have changed you into a very determined young lady who wants nothing more but to succeed and rise above everything that has uprooted your life in the first place?"

I had a very unfair advantage as I knew more about her than I led on. I watched Ashley's face turn from smiling happily after complimenting her, to almost completely sad at what she wanted as a future. "I'm sorry… did I offend you in any way?" I tried meekly.

Ashley gave a weak smile and shook her head. "No, it's okay. Everything was quite spot on. Except my age of course; however much I wish to be still 23, I am in fact 25."

She looked exceptionally young for her age. If I didn't know beforehand, I would've thought she was fresh out of high school. Kind of the same way she thought I was.

I stared into her eyes and gave a supportive smile. "Tell me who you are, Ashley Davies." I was silently begging for the truth – the full truth, but wondered if Ashley even knew what that was.

"Where do you want me to start?" she asked sweetly.

"Right from the beginning."

* * *

I tried to hang onto every word that came out of Ashley's mouth. But at times I found it difficult, because there was no way of telling what was real. During our meal I'd noticed a band-aid on Ashley's arm, and Kyla's words about Ashley going to rehab came back to me. I didn't really believe everything that came out of Kyla Davies' mouth, but some of the things she'd told me started adding up as the night progressed.

"Ash, how did your midterms go? I forgot to ask," I interrupted her. I wasn't really listening anyway. I felt terrible.

Ashley's face lit up, and my heart broke for her. If only she knew…

"It went great, actually. There's a couple of subjects I feel a bit unsure of, but I definitely know that I'm acing practicals."

I faked a smile and took a sip of my wine. "Where is it that you're enrolled again?"

Ashley gave me an odd look. _Shit, am I being too obvious?_ "Part time UCLA… why?"

Fuck.

"I was considering to maybe also study something… you know, do something with my life."

Her smile was back, and it broke me the way she got excited and tried to encourage me.

 _What the fuck is wrong with you? Keep pushing for intel._

I've never reached so many crossroads in my mind before. Ever. I was torn between getting my job done and proving the Davies' innocence. But then there was also Kyla's version of things and Ashley's version of things. My intel was getting blurred because I didn't know who was telling the truth anymore. Kyla led me to believe that Ashley was unhinged and put so many doubts in my mind about any information I received from Ashley. Which was why I was inclined to believe that Kyla was hiding things, and that Chelsea was right about them. Her. And then there was Ashley… the band-aid, her unrealistic dreams, the terrible coffee, the assault incident, the two years in jail, yet there was an innocence that literally exuded off of her. It was all so confusing. And what made it so much worse was that this beautiful brunette was staring at me with her exotic brown eyes, her gentle smile melting away all the doubts I had about her sanity.

"Spencer?"

She was still staring at me.

"Are you alright?"

Still staring. Concern was written all over her face.

 _Oh!_ She was actually talking to me! _Shit!_

I felt like such a jerk.

"I'm sorry, Ashley, can you excuse me for a minute?" I pushed my chair back and got up. I needed cold water in my face.

"Uhm, sure. Are you okay, though? Do you need anything? Can I order you something sweet – you look a little pale there." She sounded like a perfectly normal human being. There was no way Ashley could be crazy, right?

"I'm good thanks, just need to freshen up a little."

* * *

"Are you sure you're okay? I'm not boring you, am I?" Ashley asked shyly as I returned to the table.

I smiled and sat down. The cold water had helped tremendously. "I'm okay, Ash. And no, you're not boring me at all. So where were we?"

I'd decided to ignore what Kyla had told me, in order to concentrate on anything I could get out of Ashley. I'd try and filter out the lies later. I just needed something now – _anything_.

I noticed that Ashley's happiness had faltered a little. Things were about to get serious. I never realized that she _wanted_ to tell the truth so badly.

"You know, when you're watching a movie, especially like crime dramas, there's almost always the case where someone had a fake ID of some sort?"

Oh. Fuck.

My heart stopped. _Does she know?_

I nodded for Ashley to continue despite the fact that I could barely breathe. She seemed oblivious to my discomfort of being found out.

"And you wonder by yourself, how could people believe this shit – it's so obvious that the person is hiding something."

I nodded again, refusing to open my mouth and blurt out an apology. Just in case…

"Well, it actually does happen in real life. People _do_ get away with fake identities."

 _Breathe, Carlin, breathe!_

"Kyla is one of them. Her real surname is Woods, thanks to my dad who slept around in his younger days. And she is originally from Baltimore, not LA."

My eyes went wide. I breathed out a sigh of relief and swallowed the entire refill of wine the waiter had poured.

Ashley was still oblivious to my reactions. It was evident that she felt she had to get everything off her chest without any interruptions.

"She's actually a runaway convict – she's committed some serious crimes in Baltimore, Spence."

You know when you're in love with someone and you're wondering if they love you back, you play that game with an ox-eye daisy, or any flower for that matter, called _"effeuiller la marguerite_ " in French? For a very brief moment I considered playing that to figure out whether Ashley was telling the truth or was slightly in a delusional state. _"She's lying… she's lying – not…"_

It was all getting too much. Kyla saying Ashley is crazy, Ashley claiming that Kyla is a runaway convict… Were they setting me up? Was Chelsea right about both of them all along?

Ashley was _still_ oblivious, and just continued her story.

"She's a cold blooded murderer, Spence, and sometimes I get so scared. She's got a short temper, and I know she's got guns at the house."

 _Please, please, please tell the truth…_

"I didn't hurt that guy, Spencer. It was Kyla. I was just so scared for her, you know? If the police found out who she really was, she was going to be locked away for good. And I know that it doesn't really make me less of a criminal because I'm basically an accomplice because I know who she is… it's just, she's all I have left. If she had to go away, what would have happened to me?"

She finally looked up. I stared at her, my mind exploding from information overload and doubts.

But when I looked into those eyes and saw a sincerity I've yet to experience in my life, I believed her. I believed Ashley Davies. And I believed _in_ her, and I believed that she _was_ innocent, and really trying to be the person she claimed she was - that determined young lady who wanted nothing more but to succeed and rise above everything that had uprooted her life.

 _"…she's lying – not…"_

* * *

It was a beautiful evening out. Everything about this night was supposed to be magical. Ashley _was_ magical. I watched her slip on some Sneakers that she'd grabbed from her car, and slid down into the go-kart that I held still for her. I'd already gotten two engines running, and was excited to have some childish fun and forget for a moment that things were so very confusing. As amazing as our evening was, there were also some tense moments. Sad moments. Moments of hard truths. Mostly from Ashley – I've refrained from revealing too much about my own life.

So, cliché as my choice of go-karting was, I also realized it was the perfect way to cheer us up, and let her know a little bit about myself without compromising anything.

It felt unfair, once again, that I now held so much information about her, but I couldn't share half of my life with her.

"Warm up lap first? Then 10 laps, I've set the computer," I instructed. I was fortunate to have had this. Dad was very supportive when I asked him if I could take a date out karting in the middle of the night.

Ashley nodded and pulled her helmet over her head. My heart warmed at the thought that she was smiling and having fun. Wasn't that how dates were supposed to be? I'd forgotten how it felt… the last time I went on a date I was still in high school, and ended up getting my heart broken.

I got into my own kart and fastened my helmet. This was going to be fun…

And it was. I couldn't remember the last time I have laughed so much. And to be honest, I had fun. Pure unadulterated fun. Ashley was a great sport. I let her win the race, it was neck and neck anyway.

I made another lap and pressed on the brake when I found a spot in the open moonlight. Ashley followed. We took our helmets off and giggled like teenagers.

"That was a lot of fun," Ashley admitted.

"Yeah, it was. Thank you – it's been an amazing evening so far."

"So, is this the part where I get to know the real Spencer Wilson?"

I smiled at her. "Not so bad at reading people after all."

"Maybe… maybe not," she teased.

I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. I had to be very careful what I told her and what I left out. "I practically live here. Arthur's been a great boss to me. I moved to LA from Washington after I finished my last sentence. Figured it'd be better for a fresh start."

It sickened me to tell so many lies. Especially after Ashley had revealed truths to me that was going to change the course of this entire investigation.

"I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I mean, when I was still in school I used to race karts with my dad all the time. That's basically the only life experience I had when I came here. Karts and cars. Well, still have. Arthur gave me a job immediately – it seemed like he needed extra hands, I guess I came just at the right time."

Ashley frowned. "What about your parents? Any siblings?"

Easiest way out? "No siblings. My parents died in a car accident when I just started junior year. I lived with friends after that, not the best kind, I guess that's where things went south for me. We boosted cars, we drank a lot. I was in more trouble than I was not. I don't remember much, it feels like my life only really started when I came to LA."

"I'm sorry to hear about your parents." _Fuck, this is killing me_. "And I'm sorry that you went through all that bad stuff in your life. I guess we have something in common, don't we?"

I laughed ruefully. "We might have jail time in common, but yours was unfair. Mine, not so much." _If I got fired I could always take up acting?_ "Come on, it's getting late. Do you want to come over to my place for some coffee before you go?"

"I would love to."

* * *

 _Bzzz-bzzz-bzzz… Bzzz-bzzz-bzzz… Bzzz-bzzz-bzzz…_

I groaned in frustration and reached out to my nightstand, feeling around for my phone. I was barely awake but suddenly very alert when I saw the time. _03:05 AM_. And then the number. _Sergeant Lewis._

"Hello?" I whispered. It wasn't intentional, but I thanked my guardian angel when I remembered I wasn't alone in bed.

"Another truck was hijacked tonight. Montanio has made a decision that we're gonna make a move on Carmen Mendez at sixteen hundred hours. If you agree, just say yes."

My mind was reeling. Another hijacking? Dad was right in his predictions that it might happen before Desert Quarter. And if Ashley was here with me… did that mean she wasn't involved? All the evidence pointed to Carmen, but we didn't have the hard proof that I wanted. It was Paula's call. All I had to do was show up for the action.

"Yes."

"Spence?" _Oh shit._

"Sorry, but you've got the wrong number."

I switched off my phone and turned towards Ashley. She smiled lazily up at me. "I get that all the time."

 _Sadly, I don't_. "Shh, let's go back to sleep," I whispered, leaning down to kiss her. It was soft, sensuous, and turning me on. Ashley returned the kiss with as much intensity, just fueling the fire inside me even more. After hours of lovemaking, I was surprised that she still had energy left to go again. But who was I to complain?

* * *

Operation arrest-Carmen-and-crew was exhilarating . I was dressed in full tactical uniform, which I'd come to realize I've missed a bit since I started doing so much undercover work the past year. A beanie hid my face from exposure. A bullet-proof vest covered my upper body. I wore combat boots. My father would have a heart-attack if he saw me like that. I didn't blame him for being overprotective – we only had each other.

We had tracked down each of her crew members , and did the arrests in a swift manner. With an army of cops, I'm sure they didn't know what hit them. The last one was Carmen. She had attended a family dinner at the Mendez-mansion in a very upmarket estate. Her family was high-profile and I had a suspicion that she wouldn't be in jail for long. Depending on how soon her father would forgive her – the arrest in front of her family was embarrassing to say the least, and he made sure to have her know that.

Much later that night I received a call to head over to our undercover headquarters. I was relieved about the distraction – Ashley had been on my mind ever since I'd gotten home. I was still trying to process everything she'd told me about Kyla, and everything Kyla had told me about Ashley.

Paula was on the phone with someone when I got there and plunged down on a desk chair. Chelsea was the only other person at the house. I wondered what was going on.

" _Yes sir. I know sir. Got it_." It felt strange to hear Paula address someone like that. The seriousness in her voice kept me from joking about it to Chelsea, who looked very worried.

After Paula put the phone down, she sighed and looked at us. _Uh-oh_. Something was wrong, very wrong. "The sound systems and TV's were purchased legally. The only thing we could charge them with was for some outstanding speeding tickets."

I wanted to express my earlier warnings about not having any hard evidence. But now was not the time. The look on Paula's face told me to keep my mouth shut for once. And I did just that.

"So they're all out?" Chelsea asked, even though we all knew what the answer was.

"Yes, Mendez's family bailed them out." Paula was silent for a moment, looking me up and down. "Is this the kind of intelligence I can expect from you, Carlin?"

 _Whoa! Hold on! What the fuck?_

I lost all my resolve to act like the adult I was. "You're putting this on _me_?" I practically yelled at her.

Paula remained calm. "I can put this on whoever I want, kid. Perks of being a Special Agent."

I jumped up. "You can't do that! There's no way – "

Paula interrupted me the same way she always did. "I don't care what you say, Carlin. We play by my rules here. I don't care what you have to do, but you have 48 hours to catch these criminals, or you might want to think about another career. Now get out of my face."

She didn't have to invite me twice. I stormed out of the house, fuming. How dared she blame me? I'd warned them! _She_ was the one who made the call! I was so angry that I haven't even noticed that Chelsea had followed me out.

She was calm, but the way she spoke to me was one of great authority – something that I appreciated about her. "It's the Davies', Spencer, it always has been. Now, I know you've been lying to _me_ , but have you been lying to yourself because you can't see past Ashley?"

I stared at her in silent disbelief. She was right, however. Chelsea knew me well. But I was so conflicted between what I had learned and _wanted_ to be the truth, and what _was_ actually the blatant truth. I hated myself for becoming emotionally involved.

"Kyla won't go to prison, and Ashley won't go back," I stated. After what Ashley had told me, I knew Kyla would leave the States if she had to. And no doubt she'd take her family with her. I had to work very fast to get all the information I needed on Kyla Woods – _before_ I could even mention it to my Sergeant.

Chelsea put her hand on my shoulder. "I trust you Spencer. Don't make me regret it."


	14. Chapter 13 : Breaking Point

**Ashley : Breaking point**

I was in a state of euphoria. Not because we were headed to the Desert Quarter today – _as if that would make me happy_ – it was because of a certain blonde who had completely captured my heart.

My mind kept drifting back to our date night. Despite some intense discussions here and there, the night was entertaining. Dinner was amazing. I found it so easy to talk to her. Sometimes I forgot that she used to be a criminal. When I sat there, I imagined that she hadn't been to prison, and that her life was as innocent as I wished mine was. I'd told her about Kyla. I told her everything. I wanted her to know that I trusted her completely, and that I was open for a relationship with her. I could dream about a future with her.

Our ice cream venture was just as great. I saw her smile a lot, then. She's got the most amazing smile especially when it lights up her face, and reaches her eyes. Not even to mention the cute pout she throws in there sometimes.

When we went karting, I learned a little bit about Spencer. She didn't talk much about her past, I guessed it was difficult for her, but I appreciated every word she shared with me.

She was more open to the idea of sharing her body and soul with me. Never in my life had someone made me feel so special, so loved, as she gently tended to my needs, and allowed me to have her in return. I still had marks on my back as proof just how intense it was.

I realized that I was in love with her.

But there was something in the air today. Kyla was tense and bitchy – more so than usual – and it scared me. She kept talking about a last run and Mexico. I wasn't sure what she meant by that, but if she was thinking of running, she had to know that I wasn't going to run with her. I had a life here. I had college, I had the coffee shop, and I had Spencer. I've had enough of the drama revolving around cars, racing, territory, and money.

Unfortunately, Spencer was also tense. She was deep in thought as we arrived at the location of the Desert Quarter Mile. There were thousands of people, if not more. It was a great vibe, but the scene was not for me. I was more concerned about Spencer than worrying about the stupid racing.

"Spence? Are you okay?"

She smiled that dreamy smile. "I'm good, knowing you're here. It's just nerves."

I believed her. She was new at racing. She'd only done a handful of street races, and this would be her first Desert Quarter. Personally, I also hoped it would be the last. If there was any way I could convince her that we break away from this, I would. She still owed Kyla a car. And money for rebuilding the Supra. I wished I could help her get out of Kyla's grasp. As much as I loved my sister, I didn't trust her. I couldn't shake the uneasiness that Kyla had brought over me. I couldn't help feeling that she was up to something. I couldn't help wondering if she was going to be my ultimate downfall.

"Are _you_ okay?"

For a brief moment I'd forgotten all about Spencer right next to me. We were queuing for our race registrations. "I guess I'm nervous too. I don't want to race Carmen."

Spencer grabbed my hand. "Hey," she said softly, lifting my chin. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to race today, or ever, Ash."

My stomach did flip-flops every single time she said my name in its shortened version. It made me feel like I belonged somewhere. With someone who actually cared about _me_.

"I know, it's just, Kyla – "

"Screw Kyla," Spencer interrupted me in a lowered voice. She leaned in and her soft lifts grazed mine. "I know she's your sister, but she can't force you to do something you don't want to do."

I wished it was that simple. I dropped my gaze to the sand and kicked into the dirt.

"Ash, look at me," Spencer urged. She cupped my face and melted my heart with those beautiful blue eyes. "Don't do this. _I'll_ race Carmen."

I scoffed. "And if you lose? Kyla will kill you, Spence – she would _really_ do that. Losing against Carmen today is not an option."

I know I insulted her capability to race, but the tiny smile curving her lips told me she understood the impact of my words. "That much faith in someone who almost beat _you_ , huh?"

The thing about Spencer Wilson is, she made me laugh. In the worst situations, she knew how to ease up the tension, even if it was just a little bit. I loved her for that. She got a chuckle and a smile out of me.

"I just don't want you to get hurt," I finally admitted. After our night together, I was more sure about my feelings for her than ever. But I also knew how dangerous Kyla really was. When it came to racing and protecting her name, she was relentless.

She surprised me. "I'm here to protect _you_ , not the other way around."

I didn't understand why she would say that, but Spencer's words stayed with me for the rest of the day.

* * *

Kyla was livid when she found out that I was not going to race. She'd been screaming at me for about twenty minutes, when finally, a distraction in the form of Madison, came running up to us in a panic.

"Kyl – "

"Not now, Madison, I'm talking to Ashley."

"But – "

Kyla nearly exploded. "I _said_ , not now, Madison!"

I watched as Madison took a step back. We both knew this side of Kyla – it was a side that I've only once seen before – when she beat up Peter Anderson. Madison had seen more such occurrences.

I took a deep, cautious breath. "Kyla, just let her talk, please?"

Kyla had never raised her hand for me before, so I gasped as her palm made contact with my face.

Madison jumped in and pushed her away. "Kyla, are you fucking crazy? Go take a walk! Go stop Clay from racing Carmen!"

That seemed to have grabbed Kyla's attention. Without so much as an apology to me, she stormed off, and I knew that she was even more angry now. It was my fault that Clay was taking on Carmen. He wasn't supposed to race at all today.

"Ashley?" Madison looked at me with concern.

"I'm fine, Madison. Just leave me alone, please."

When she left, I made my way over to the spectator wall to watch Clay's demise. I knew before we even left home that this entire Desert race was going to be a disaster. And so far, my gut was right.

Clay had lost his race against Carmen. I stared as he drove off out of the arena instead of heading back to us. Something was wrong. _Everything_ was going wrong. The next thing I knew, Kyla and Carmen were in a fist fight – Carmen blaming Kyla for a police raid at her family home. Kyla was a lot of things, but never someone to rat somebody else out. And she showed it, with her fists. It took several security personnel to break them apart.

My eye caught Spencer's, and I felt even more unsettled. Why did it feel like something bad was about to happen?


	15. Chapter 14 : Conscience

**A/N : Thank you for all the reviews and reading up to here! Things are about to get messy; but rest assured that the story is far from over!**

* * *

 **Spencer : Conscience**

All my life, I've concentrated on what I wanted to achieve. I've never considered something like falling in love, or even thinking about dating. My career was just too important. And considering the dangerous job I was in, I could never bring myself to justify what I did for a living to a potential girlfriend. They wouldn't understand. Or they'd get in the way and try to get me to quit. Worse even, be in danger. I felt bad enough that my dad got dragged into this investigation. I worried about him every single day.

I tried to remember when I had decided to become a cop. My grandfather was a Marine. I vaguely recalled him telling me stories about war when he was still alive. I was eight when he passed away. Color me confused for taking a liking in dangerous missions and crazy, scary situations at such a young age.

Allowing myself to fall in love was never my plan. To fall in love with a lead suspect of a high profile investigation was definitely not in the plan either. To be honest, I never knew what it was to fall in love until I met her. I didn't know my knees could go weak and my breath could hitch like that at just the thought or sight of this girl. Even my heart did all kinds of strange things – from skipping beats to sometimes stopping altogether. When she was close to me it was racing – _way_ faster than my car did even after I'd activated NOS. When her lips touched mine it felt like I touched heaven.

I wasn't sure when things have become so confusing. My objective was straightforward and very clear; befriend the Davies', get into the racing scene, get the evidence to prove that the Davies' were hijacking those trucks, take them down.

Instead, I fell in love with one, and tried to believe that the other one was innocent. By now I knew Kyla wasn't, and I had enough reason to believe that they were about to hit again, possibly right after their last races. But I still had a problem.

Ashley Davies.

I wanted her to be innocent in all of this. I didn't want her to be crazy. I didn't want her to get hurt.

But as my eye caught hers, I knew things were about to change. She looked worried and my guess was that she was uncovering some truths today that she'd rather have ignored for the rest of her life. I knew I was going to be one of them.

I'd lied to her for weeks. I used her and made love to her as a consolation prize – that's not what my heart told me, but my mind was cynical. I had doubts about her, doubts about her studying and the coffee shop – thanks to Kyla. As much as I didn't want her to get hurt by anything that was going to go down today, I knew deep down that the only person who was going to rip that beautiful heart of hers apart, was me.

I wanted to hurl.

Paula was right about me all along. I was not the right person for this job. I screwed up royally. I'd messed with people's hearts, with their lives. Maybe I'd give them Kyla in the end, but I could never give them Ashley. I was too weak for that. Too much of a coward. I did not deserve to earn that Detective Badge. _Spencer Carlin, welcome to Precinct 59. You will be cleaning toilets here for the rest of your life… And live with the pain you caused Ashley Davies. It will hurt your cold heart until the day you die._


	16. Chapter 15 : Starting the chaos

**Kyla : Starting the chaos**

I was livid. How _dared_ Carmen Mendez accuse me of treason? How dared she think I would put the cops on them? Don't get me wrong, I would do anything to see that skank go down, but betraying fellow racers and, well, felons, was not my thing. It was an unspoken rule in the entire underground racing industry. And whoever dared to speak up, got killed. I'd say just ask Filipe, one of my previous mechanics, but the snitch had it coming. I was convinced now that he started this whole thing. Spencer didn't just show up out of nowhere. She was going to go down the same way Filipe did. I just had to get the little bimbo to confess that she'd been lying to me. To us. To Ashley. Oh, that was going to go down so well!

Knuckles connected to my jaw, and I flinched slightly, my body twisting away from the offending fist.

I used the momentum to force my own fist back towards Carmen. She didn't get to hit me without feeling the brunt of it. I hit her square on the nose, and blood splattered everywhere. She caught me off-guard with a kick in the stomach. I stumbled backwards, angry. Very angry. Carmen Mendez was going to pay.

"Hey! Stop!"

Security was on us already. _Fuck_.

I felt hands on my shoulders, arms around my waist, pulling me back. They did the same to Carmen.

"Fight it out on the tarmac, not with your fists!" _What a fucking idiot. Who put bouncers in charge?_

My entire crew was suddenly beside me, escorting me away from the chaos. _Good_. Carmen should know who she was dealing with.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you?" Ashley shrieked once we reached our trailer.

I spun around to face her, my anger far from subsiding. In fact, the audacity for this little twenty-five year old to demand answers from _me_ was a bit infuriating. I was six years her senior – _no_ one talked to me like that.

"What the hell is wrong with _me_? You forget who you're talking to, Ashley Davies."

She snorted disrespectfully. "Oh? And who exactly are _you_ , Kyla Davies?"

She earned her second slap for the day.

And of course, along came her little blonde hero. "Hey! Get your hands off of her!"

I stared at Spencer in aversion as she came running up to Ashley's side. This was just perfect. Everybody was here now, and I could just drop the bomb right now. We'd be gone in twenty-four hours and so would this blonde bimbo.

"Spencer! I'm so glad that you finally joined us. Care to tell me why you put the cops on Carmen?" Madison's face went red, Aiden and Ashley's eyes went wide. I smiled, waiting for her to come up with an excuse. I was going to bury her right here.

"What are you talking about, Kyla?" Ashley asked, posing that eerie calmness that scared even _me_ sometimes. I had _no_ idea how she did that – go from angry and worked up to stillness you can't really trust – in the matter of seconds. Ashley stared between myself and Spencer.

"We've got a snitch in our midst, Ashley. Did I, or did I not warn you about this bimbo from the beginning?"

"I never – " Spencer started, but Ashley cut her off. This was just too beautiful not to watch. _My sister is growing up so fast._

"Is this true?" Ashley gave her a death stare.

Surprisingly, Spencer held her pose quite well. "No."

I burst out laughing. "Oh please! Spencer, why don't you tell my dear sister about your whole little facade going to the coffee shop every day, drinking that disgusting coffee, just so you could use her for information? Just like you've been trying to get things out of me this entire time? Or how about that night we went to check out Glen and Carmen's garages?"

They were all quiet, staring at Spencer. I was proud of my little loyal crew – they did not doubt my lies for a second. At least the last one wasn't a lie – Madison was there.

"And then, you had the audacity to ask me if Ashley was mentally unstable, because you didn't believe that she was really studying…"

Spencer's eyes nearly bulged out, while Ashley went white in the face. Madison was close to ripping the bimbo apart.

Spencer lost her cool. " _You_ said that to _me_! You told _me_ – " Ashley interrupted her again. I was so proud of her!

"Wait… hold on… Spencer, you kept asking me on our date about…" Ashley's voice died down, and I almost felt sorry for her when she realized that I was talking the truth. Or thought I was, anyway.

"No, Ashley, it's not like that!" Spencer exclaimed in defense.

"You think I'm… mentally unstable?" Ashley asked her softly.

If I had a heart, I'd feel sorry for them both right now. But I didn't, and I was over the lovebirds and their little romance. "Ashley, forget about her. We need to get going." I stepped forward and touched her arm lightly, acting all sisterly.

" _Mentally unstable_?" Madison repeated furiously, stepping right up into Spencer's face.

As much as I would have loved to see Madison take the blonde down, I had to break the fight apart before it started. "Madison, we need to go. We're running out of time. Aiden, get _her_ out of here."

I watched as Aiden dragged the blonde away, not bothered by her kicking and screaming. I'd deal with her when returned to get our stuff. Spencer Wilson was as good as dead.

"Out of time for what?" _Oh Ashley, my clueless little sister…_


	17. Chapter 16 : Detached

**Ashley : Detached**

"I'm going on a job. When I get back tomorrow afternoon, you better have your shit packed, because we're leaving for Mexico at 6PM."

I stared at Kyla, half in anger, half in disbelief. How could she do this? How could she do this to me? My world was literally falling apart, and here she was, obviously on her way to do something illegal, and then running away again. I was so tired. It felt like all life had been drained from me. My heart ached, I was angry, I wanted answers. But these people, who were supposedly my family and _girlfriend_ – if she _was_ even that – had just abandoned me to pick up the pieces of my heart that they had shattered. I couldn't do this anymore.

"I'm not going anywhere, Kyla."

"Yes you are, Ashley Davies. Now get your things and go home and wait for me. And phone me when Clay gets there."

I put my foot down. "Kyla, you're not listening to me. I'm _not_ going with you! I'm not leaving LA. Or the States."

"You _will_ be ready tomorrow, Ashley. I'm not talking about this again." I followed her to her car and watched her get in.

Kyla slammed the driver door of her RX-7 shut, and opened the window. "I'm doing this for us, Ash. For our futures. It's the last raid, then all of this is over. No more running, no more struggling." She started the engine and looked at me carefully. "I'm going to kill her, you should know that by now. Go home and wait for me. And not a word to anyone."

I watched as Kyla, Madison and Aiden drove off. I was scared for them. They were doing something illegal, I could figure that much. The uneasy feeling I've had all day was still in my throat.

"Ashley!"

Just a day ago – _a couple of hours ago_ – that voice made my knees weak. But right now, I wished I had Kyla's strength and lack of conscience to kill someone. Kill _her_.

Spencer stopped beside me, out of breath. "Where are they going?"

I stared at her incredulously. " _Where are they going_? You have _got_ some nerve!"

Spencer kept calm, and it infuriated me even more. _How dare she?_ "Ash, you've got to tell me. Please. I wouldn't ask you if this wasn't important."

"Don't you _dare_ call me that!" I spat at her. I was _so_ angry, and hurt, that I felt the need to physically hurt Spencer back. I couldn't believe the things she's said, the things she _thought_ about me. It hurt so much I thought I was going to throw up.

"They're going on a run, aren't they? I know about the trucks, Ashley," Spencer pressed. Why was she acting as if she didn't just rip my heart into pieces?

I was sick and tired of being kept in the dark. Of everybody's secrets. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but _please_ , enlighten me."

Spencer stepped closer to me, but I gave a step back. It was for her own safety. "Ashley, they're hijacking trucks. I need to know where." She didn't make any sense, and finally it must have dawned on her that I _really_ didn't know. I saw emotions reflecting in her eyes going from concerned to relieved to panicked. "I need to stop them. They're making a big mistake, these truckers are armed and all the major highways are full of patrol vehicles. I'm a cop, Ashley."

Everything around me froze in time. Spencer just admitted to being a cop. So Kyla was talking the truth. I've been lied to, I've been used, she _slept_ with me to get information out of me! How could I have been so blind? All this time I thought I meant something… The contents of my stomach presented itself. I've never felt so hurt and betrayed before.

I felt her hand on my back, gently rubbing circles to ease the heaving. "Ash… I never meant to hurt you. Everything I've told you about how I feel is the truth, I never lied about that."

"Get away from me!"

"Ash, please, I beg you to just listen to me. I know you're upset with me right now, but if you care about Kyla – "

Hearing Kyla's name while this was about _us_ broke me. I shot up and pushed her back, _hard_. When she regained her balance I felt dissatisfied and pushed her again. And again, until she fell. Everything in my body screamed to just beat her up right there. I wanted her to feel the pain that I felt. But it wasn't enough. Two could play this game – I'd show her what betrayal was.

"Ash…"

"I don't know where they're headed. I didn't even know what they were doing, but if we hurry we can catch up with them." I tried really hard to stay calm while I held out my hand to help her up. Spencer Wilson would soon see what mentally unstable _really_ meant.

* * *

"Yeah, this is Officer Spencer Carlin, badge number three-five – "

I listened as Spencer phoned in to try and track Kyla via Geo-tagging on her phone number. I felt numb. Betrayed. Hurt. Sad. Spencer Wilson. Spencer Carlin. Her surname was _Carlin_. She was a cop.

She didn't spend three years in jail. She never stole cars, or committed fraud, or assaulted anybody. She _was_ the innocent girl after all, the girl that I had wished so many times she'd be. But she was a liar. She'd been lying to me from day one. How could I ever know for sure if what she said she felt was for real? She used people. She didn't care who she hurt along the way to get her job done.

She was the same as Kyla in that way. Kyla cared even less about hurting people to get what she wanted.

I always knew – I _knew_ Kyla was up to no good. I just never expected this… I wanted to see the good in her, to believe that my sister was trying to live an honest life like the rest of us.

But what she was doing was far beyond that. She was dangerous, she was a murderer. She assaulted people. She committed fraud. Money laundering. No wonder there was always money for certain things, but hidden away when we needed it for necessities. It felt better, in a way, that she hid the money. I felt nauseous at the thought that I was graduating with stolen money.

So many things made sense now.

Kyla kept saying I needed to go on a dry run with them, or do a run with them. Their 'runs' meant hijacking trucks with high-valued items so it could be sold off on the streets for millions. And Mexico… How could I have been so stupid? Kyla was running away.

And I wondered this time if she was going to be able to, like she'd managed all those years ago, making an escape from Baltimore.

But it didn't matter. Kyla didn't matter, and neither did Spencer. All I wanted was justice for the way they ruthlessly destroyed me, destroyed my life, my faith in humanity. I would bring Kyla and Spencer together. Whatever happened then was their problem. If both of them died today, sadly I'd be very happy…

"Which interstate? Okay, yes, I've got it, thank you."

Spencer switched off her phone and briefly turned to me, regret evident in her eyes. "We're about fifteen miles behind them." Her voice cracked. "I'm really sorry, Ashley."

I didn't care. Spencer Wilson – _Carlin_ , was dead to me.


	18. Chapter 17 : Wrath of a woman scorned

**Spencer : Wrath of a woman scorned**

I've been known for ruining lives. But never innocent ones. My job the past year was to go on undercover missions, make friends with people, lie to them, and arrest them. Justice shall be served.

A lot of those missions were dangerous. I've been shot at, attacked with knives or any hard objects for that matter, kicked at, taken hits to the face, to my body. Yet I survived them all; it was difficult to take a Carlin down. But this… this mission had been the worst, the most painful. There were no physical blows. It was the internal beating to my heart that broke me. The worst part was that I did it to myself.

I occasionally stole glances at Ashley, but she refused to look my way. She was leaning with her head against the passenger side window, her eyes lifeless as she stared ahead of her.

I knew that I'd screwed up. What I didn't know was how to fix it. Kyla had to have found out somehow that I was a cop. That, or she'd planned this way in advance. She needed a scapegoat, and something to get Ashley to willingly leave the States. I realized that I was that _'something'_. Like I've used them, she'd used me too.

I squinted at movement on the road ahead. Accelerating slightly, we came closer to what seemed like… two Honda Civics and a very angry truck driver. My guess was that Clay used to drive the third Civic.

The commotion in front of us got Ashley's attention too. She sat up straight, watching the scene intently.

Things didn't look good. I sped up even more and finally caught up behind Kyla, who was driving next to the truck. Madison was up ahead. And Aiden… was stuck on the passenger step of the truck, dodging gunfire from the driver.

"Shit," I said to no-one in particular. It was the only time Ashley turned to look at me. Her expression turned from anxious to fuming in the seconds it took me to phone Chelsea and call it in. I explained the hijacking, I explained Kyla's alibi, and I explained that Clay was missing. I didn't dare look over at Ashley while I ratted her family out.

Kyla was trying to get closer to the truck to let Aiden jump off onto her car. But what she didn't realize was that Aiden's hand got tangled up in the harpoon cable. Chelsea had informed us that the hijackers used this weapon to shoot out the windscreen of the trucks, and for one person to then get onto the vehicle. Somewhere along the lines things went horribly wrong for them today. It felt like a small drop in the bucket compared to what went wrong between myself and Ashley.

I had to think fast. Kyla wouldn't be able to get Aiden off the truck – she was alone in her car. Madison was trying to slow them down as much as possible, but if anything went awry, that truck would simply drive over her car with the speed it was still going at. _Think Carlin, think!_

"Ashley!"

She jumped and looked at me. Her eyes were clouded over with hatred, fear and concern. At least she still cared about her family.

"I need you to take over! I need to get onto that truck!"

She looked at me like _I_ was mentally unstable now. "Are you out of your _mind_?"

There wasn't time for arguing. I grabbed her phone from her hands and dialed Kyla's number.

 _"What the fuck are you doing here, Ashley! I told you to stay put!"_ Kyla hollered into the phone.

 _"Kyla! Get in front of the truck with Madison to slow him down! We'll try get Aiden off, he needs help – he's stuck!"_ I didn't give her time to reply. I dropped the phone on the floorboard and sped up, flashing my headlights behind Kyla so she could get out of the way.

It was going to be tricky. The truck driver kept shooting at Aiden with a pump-action shotgun. Every bullet that didn't hit the body of the truck, came flying straight at our car. Our lives were in as much danger as Aiden's was. For a split-second I considered leaving them all there to get Ashley out of harm's way.

But she was already maneuvering over to grab the steering wheel and take my place. Once she was almost on my lap – which rendered me mush when her skin touched mine – and then yelled at me to move, I did, and slid out from underneath her. My heart was pounding in my chest, in my ears, in my head. Adrenaline shot through me, the heart-ache of not touching Ashley anymore spreading through my veins.

I dropped into her seat and flipped the switch on the dash console for the Supra convertible's roof to lift. We were going at such a speed that the force of the wind ripped it off the moment the roof was halfway backed up. _Well, that's sorted then_. I indicated for Ashley to speed up and move closer to the truck.

I didn't know what gave me more courage, the adrenaline or fear. We were dangerously close, the Peterbilt's front wheels almost the height of our car. Bullets kept flying our way, and Ashley wasn't any safer without the roof now. I reached out to Aiden and our hands touched slightly, but he was still stuck in the harpoon cable.

The only option I had left was to jump onto the truck with Aiden and untangle him. I hoped Ashley would stay put and not leave me behind with the madman behind the wheel. I'd probably deserve it if she did.

"Stay put!" I yelled over to Ashley over the noise of the truck and cars, wheels, and wind. And the shotgun spraying bullets all over.

She looked at me like I was crazy, and for a very brief moment, I thought I saw concern in her eyes. It gave me the courage I needed, even though I knew I imagined what I saw.

I took the leap.

I grabbed onto the door, one hand clutching tightly to the side mirror, the other flat against the door. There was enough space for my feet on the little step, but it didn't put my mind at ease. Not while we were traveling at 70 miles per hour and being shot at. I quickly assessed Aiden's arm. It was bad. Circulation was cut off. The cable practically mauled his arm. And he had sustained a gunshot wound to his leg. At such close range, I was surprised that he was able to hold on for so long.

I untangled the cable from Aiden's arm, hoping, _praying_ , that he'd have sense to hold on to something with his other hand. He was losing a lot of blood. I glanced back at the Supra next to us, and my eyes locked with Ashley's. It was a heart-breaking moment. I'd never see adoration and love in those chocolate brown orbs ever again.

The moment passed, and I knew it was now or never. With my one hand still clutching tightly to the side mirror, I maneuvered Aiden's injured arm over my shoulder. He needed his good hand to grab onto the car.

"On the count of three, we jump, okay?"

Well, he didn't really have a choice. It was jump or die.

A stray bullet shot past my hip. I felt all life draining from me – that was a close call. Shock was an interesting thing.

"One…"

Aiden grabbed on tightly. It was difficult to keep us both up with only one hand supporting our body weight.

"Two…"

Ashley glanced at me, as if knowing we were going to make the jump. She lined up the car perfectly.

"Three!"

It happened so quickly, yet, for that second we were in the air, my life flashed before my eyes. I never said that this _didn't_ scare me.

Aiden crashed into the back seat. He was safely in the car. I held on for dear life, my lower body hanging over onto the trunk. I was curious to know just _how_ upset Ashley was with me.

But she started slowing down.

I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the urge to heave. Stuntmen definitely got paid a lot more than cops if _this_ is what they did for a living.

Minutes later the humming in my ears subsided, and I realized we'd stopped. The truck was gone, and the two black Civics pulled over next to us on the side of the road.

I didn't expect the carnage in front of me. Kyla pulled Madison out of her car, blood everywhere. She got hit. Aiden was bleeding all over my car. Kyla was hysterical while Ashley looked on in silence, probably in shock.

I shook myself out of my own stupor, and started reacting. I knew what I was about to do was going to be the end of it. I reached down in my car, searching for Ashley's phone on the floor. I had no idea where mine was.

"Yeah, this is Officer Spencer Carlin, badge number three-five – "

Kyla froze. Ashley looked smug. Aiden cried out in agony, and Madison wheezed painfully.

"I've got two trauma victims, gunshot wounds…"

The fear that I might lose my life I had moments ago, was nothing compared to the fear numbing me right now. Kyla stepped closer to me, her death-stare quite frightening. She was going to kill me.

"Yes, location… I called it in, about twenty minutes ago… speak to Sergeant Chelsea Lewis…"

Every confession over the phone had Kyla's anger change shades. Her death-stare was now something I couldn't describe. She wasn't only going to kill me, she was going to _hurt_ me, and _then_ kill me.

My eyes caught Ashley's behind Kyla, and finally it dawned on me. This is what Ashley wanted. This moment, where her _sister_ would take her pain away for her – take me, who caused all that pain, away for her.

My heart broke all over again. But I didn't have time to process it. A fist met my face. My ribs. Face again. It was painful. But the heart-ache still prevailed.

The only thing that slowed down those punches were the sound of sirens. And a medical helicopter, ready to make an emergency landing. Kyla let go of me. The disappointment on her face stung. I really thought she'd known by now.

The sirens were getting louder. Reinforcement was close. I wanted to cry from relief.

And then cry because it wasn't over yet. Steady hands held a handgun, pointing towards me. Towards my face. Kyla Davies would never miss. Her finger was on the trigger, safety already off.

We could now hear the police cars – their engines, screeching wheels. The wind picked up violently, announcing the landing of the helicopter.

Kyla had seconds left to finish this. I knew she wanted to run. Ashley gently took the gun from her, and whispered to her to go. It was still pointed at me, now in shaking hands. I understood now just how much I hurt Ashley. I wanted to beg, not for my life, but for her to stay innocent in all of this.

I never felt the impact. A bullet grazed my shoulder but _so_ much adrenaline pumped through my veins I never even faltered. The only thing I felt was confusion. Ashley deliberately missed…


	19. Chapter 18 : Divergence

**Ashley : Divergence**

Everything around me was a blur. I knew it was going to take a couple of days for everything that's happened to properly sink in. Kyla was yelling at me from afar, I saw from the corner of my eye as she jumped into her Civic. It was still safe to get away from this chaos. Chaos in the form of police squad cars, descending on us like an avalanche. The helicopter has already landed, and I watched Spencer run towards the EMTs, guiding them back to Madison and Aiden.

Spencer.

She was still on her feet. Despite a botched gunshot wound. Despite a mangled face, and probably a broken rib or two. Despite what I really hoped was a broken heart.

I just wanted her to feel what I felt; the pain, the betrayal. I never meant to shoot her. I never meant to turn out the kind of person that Kyla is. It wasn't in me to hurt people, even though all I wanted to do was to hurt Spencer. I just wanted her to know that _I_ hurt, because she meant so much to me, but she made me feel like I didn't mean anything at all.

I probably didn't.

It didn't make it less painful.

"Ashley!"

I was rooted in my footsteps, conflicted about my options. Stay, or go?

Spencer made up my mind _for_ me when she stopped, realizing with surprise that I was still here. Kyla was still here. I knew she was after Kyla. She started running towards us. And that is when I turned and ran towards my criminal sister. Blood is thicker than water, right?

"What took you so long? Get in!"

I jumped in and shut the door, my heart pounding in my ears as Kyla pulled away. I dared to look behind us. The hordes of police cars stopped at the crime scene. No-one was coming after us. We were getting away. Kyla was getting away…

I was slightly disappointed.

My mind played that dirty black-and-white-memory-reel trick on me. I remembered the first day Spencer came to the coffee shop. I remembered how I felt when I first saw her. Blonde hair in a loose ponytail, strands falling into her eyes, those big blue eyes, lit up by the most beautiful smile. She loved wearing her worn-down jeans, band T-shirts, and her black Converse shoes. She took my breath away. She carried herself with so much confidence, yet when we were alone, I saw a softer, gentler side. The side that made me fall in love with her.

In love…

I always thought it only happened in fairy tales. I _knew_ now that it really _did_ only happen in fairy tales. There was no such thing. Humans were too deceiving, too violent, too greedy. My own parents couldn't even stay in a monogamous relationship. I wondered how my life would have turned out if they did. They might still have been alive, Kyla wouldn't be in the picture, and I wouldn't be here, running away from heart-ache.

"…from Clay?"

 _Huh?_

I saw Kyla's mouth moving but the volume was on mute. The pitch of her voice was just too much sometimes. Like now. I didn't even know why I got into the car with her.

I wasn't going to run. I wasn't going to go to Mexico with her. I didn't do anything wrong. I had nothing to hide.

Okay, I shot a cop, but she deserved it. She really deserved not to be standing right now. I wasn't sure if I wanted her down on the ground or down in my arms. She didn't deserve to be up and trying to save lives, did she? The line between love and hate got blurred somewhere.

"…fucking cop off my back!"

 _What?_

"What?" I stared at Kyla, the volume back on.

She nodded towards the rearview mirror, profanities leaving her mouth in strings that never ended.

My heart felt like it just got revived by a defibrillator – and I frowned – I haven't even realized that it'd died. I stared at the mirror, and kept staring, at an orange spec that grew bigger as it came closer to us. Soon it was all I could see. That, and the occupant inside the car. Blonde hair in a loose ponytail, strands falling into her eyes, those big blue eyes. There wasn't a smile, but I didn't care. What mattered was that she was there…


	20. Chapter 19 : Ending the chaos

**Kyla : Ending the chaos**

The warning bells went off the moment Ashley took that gun in her hands. I knew I shouldn't have trusted her. This is what I've been talking about all along – she just doesn't have fucking balls! And definitely no aim either. I mean, shoulder, _really_? She could've tried for the bimbo's chest or heart if she couldn't pop one through her skull. But no, she had to fuck up the _one_ shot to get this fucking annoying cop off our backs.

I really couldn't take this anymore. If I could kill them both I really would have. The blonde would have been quick and easy – I had that chance – I shouldn't have blown it. Ashley was the problem – I still needed her. _God, I wish I didn't_. It would've made things so much easier. I should never have opened those off-shore accounts in her name. And it was too late now – I needed her in person to get the money out. Back then it sounded like a good idea, it was insurance that no-one could double-cross me. No-one knew there had to be a Woods and Davies signature. No-one knew who Woods was – except Ashley. The only thing left to do was get the money out with Ashley present, and then just get rid of her. Family was overrated anyway.

The ringing of my phone interrupted my inner rantings. I glanced down at the caller ID, frowning when it read _Ashley_.

Oh, right, _she_ had my idiotic sister's phone. I threw a dirty look at Ashley, who just shrugged.

"What do you want?"

 _"Kyla, give it up. You know you're not gonna get away with this."_

I snorted. "Watch me, Wilson. Or whatever your name really is."

 _"Kyla, the FBI can help you, they can work on a reduced sentence. But only if you stop – I can't help you once you're out of LA."_

This was hilarious. Did she really think I was that stupid? I had Ashley to eat the bullshit she was feeding us. "Save it. I know how you work. Feed your bullshit lies to someone who will believe them."

 _"I can make a deal. I will let you go, right now, if you let Ashley go."_

She was delusional. " _Let Ashley go_? Just how fucking stupid do you _think_ I am? How fucking stupid are _you_? _How_ did you get on the police force anyway?"

 _"It's your last chance, Kyla. Take it or leave it."_

I looked over at Ashley, who was listening to this conversation quite intently. Something suddenly told me she'd missed that shot on purpose… Bile rose up in my throat. _Fucking two-faced bitch!_

I dropped the phone, dismissing Spencer still on the other line. "Ashley." I tried to keep my cool – I still had to get us home in one piece – and took a deep breath. "What have you told her?"

Ashley's face screamed guilty. I knew she was going to lie. "Nothing, I haven't told her _anything_!"

My fingers started itching. I needed a gun. "Don't lie to me, Ashley Davies! I can see it in your face!"

She was panicking. "Kyla, I _swear_ , I haven't told her any – "

I clutched the steering wheel with one hand, the other grabbing Ashley's throat. I was so tempted…

"What did you tell her?"

She coughed, unable to break free. My fingers were digging into her jugular. I could do this all day long. Ashley couldn't, and she knew that. "Okay, okay…" she begged.

I loosened my grip but didn't release her. With a quick glance to the rearview mirror, and back on the road, I was relieved that we were headed into town. We were five minutes away… I really wanted to grab a gun. "Start talking!"

"She knows, she knows you're Kyla Woods."

I squeezed her throat _so_ hard that Ashley cried out loud. She was lucky I didn't have a gun on me, _so_ lucky. "I really want to kill you right now, Ashley. I really want to _fucking kill you_!"

She just cried. _Typical_.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. I had to think carefully how I could get out of this. I needed to get rid of this car – Spencer have most likely alerted all the authorities of our location and the plate details. Our passports and paperwork were inside the house – right by the front door. I'd grab the papers and my gun, and make a getaway with the Dodge. Even if Spencer was close by, she'd never catch up once I opened that monster turbo up.

But things weren't that simple. When I finally parked just outside the shed, Clay parked out in front. I had papers for him as well, so he could leave with us. I jumped out of the car, pulling Ashley out with me. I didn't trust her enough to let her loose for a second.

"Clay!" I ran down the driveway, tagging Ashley along with me.

"Kyla!" He looked spooked as he ran towards us. And suddenly I understood why. The unmistakable buzz of Carmen's bike filled the air.

Time seemed to slow down, enough for me to watch a horror unfold right in front of me. I saw Carmen pull out a semi-automatic. There was barely enough time to pull Ashley down with me as the bullets started flying. Clay was still running towards me, diving, falling. His mouth the shape of an "O", his eyes wide, all frozen as he plunged down on the ground.

The screaming and crying could only have been Ashley.

And then, stupid, and annoying as she was, Spencer showed up. She unknowingly bought me time as she ran up to Carmen, and knocked her off her bike.

I didn't care what happened next. I pulled Ashley up and ran up to the house in record speed. She was fighting me all the way back to the car.

"Ashley, stop it!" I finally yelled. Her arm was bruised where my fingers dug into her.

"I'm not going with you, Kyla!" She wriggled in my grasp.

"You don't have a choice!" I hollered. When would she get that through her thick skull already?

"Let me go!" She yanked her arm hard, knocking me off-balance.

 _That's it. This stops, now!_ I held onto her, grabbed my gun which were hidden underneath my papers, and knocked her with the grip. Hard. _Fucking finally!_ She went limp, and I let out a sigh of relief, pulling her into the Dodge. I was still itching to pull a trigger on her, but I reminded myself that I had millions waiting for me the moment I set foot in Mexico. _Just a couple more days…_

* * *

I was surprised to see a marked police car outside our house by the time I pulled out of the shed. Not like _that_ was going to stop me.

Spencer was talking to a uniformed officer, who had Carmen cuffed and ready to be loaded into the back.

I couldn't help but laugh. Carmen had just screwed herself over. While she was in jail, I was really going to enjoy her cut of the money.

I pulled out of the driveway, adrenaline pumping through me as I realized this was the last stretch. All I needed to do now was get out of LA and make it to the border. Hopefully Ashley would still be out. I hit her quite hard – at the back of her head – so it wouldn't look suspicious if we got pulled over in Mexico.

Of course, the unmistakable orange Supra soon appeared in my rearview mirror. I couldn't believe after everything I've done for Spencer, she was the skank I thought she was. Madison was right all along. I hoped they were okay. I'd come back for her in Aiden in a couple of years.

By now it was evident that Spencer wasn't going to let go. I didn't know why she thought she could race me – how was she planning to stop me and what was she going to do? She had no chance against me. Then again, she was stupid, just like Ashley. In a normal world, they would be perfect for each other. They _deserved_ each other.

Spencer was working on my nerves. She kept her pace beside me, blocking me off from side streets, forcing me into others. It almost felt like she was trying to push me into an ambush. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like what she was doing. Some usually busy streets have been slightly cleared of traffic – _the_ _bitch!_ That was _exactly_ what she was doing!

My finger started itching again. It wouldn't take much to shoot out at her. I could handle the speed, I could handle the Dodge. She wouldn't be able to keep up _and_ avoid bullets.

We practically raced downtown, I held out until I knew it was absolutely necessary to put her out of the game. I came to enjoy the semi-cleared streets. It would be a shame not to put her efforts to good use. The Dodge Charger drove like a 1970 dream.

A dream that would have turned into a nightmare had I not seen flashing lights less than a quarter mile up ahead. I had to give it to Spencer; for a blonde bimbo, she had a bit of brains. But nobody messed with Kyla Woods. There was no way I would drive into that ambush. I wasn't going back to jail. Ever.

I started panicking at the lack of side streets ahead. With Spencer trying to cut me off at each one, she left me with no choice but to start pushing her out of the way. I wasn't going to go back to jail. I'd rather die.


	21. Chapter 20 : Regrets

**A/N : Dear readers and fans, thank you for taking time to read my first ever fanfic. I know the exciting dynamic of Spashley's relationship was not so evident in this fic, I have plenty ideas for more stories and maybe I could do it there in more suitable love stories; I just felt I had to keep more action and suspense and a twisted version of Kyla alive in this one. Well, I wouldn't say this was** ** _not_** **a love story, read and find out!**

* * *

 **Ashley : Regrets**

I was at a bookstore once, browsing around for catchy coffee-table books. And yes, it was for the coffee shop. My idea was to put in some sofas in the corners, with either photo books or something refreshing. I found an interesting read; Mr. Brown's Life's Little Instruction Book, and purchased it. Sadly, and ironically, the sofa and coffee-table idea never came to light – it was a ridiculous idea, according to Kyla. The reason why it was ironic is because the book taught readers about avoiding regrets. A lot of those topics jumped out at me; _Believe in love at first sight; Give people a second chance, but not a third; Earn your success based on service to others, not at the expense of others; After you've worked hard to get what you wanted, take the time to enjoy it._ There were plenty more, I could go on forever.

The past two days had me thinking about that book and the life lessons more than ever. I was one of those people, who ignored the smaller things in life, and ended up regretting it in the end. I was in a jumble of those regrets right now.

When I opened my eyes, I immediately knew we were moving. I could hear the humming of the car, feel the wheels' friction across the tarmac, but one distinct feeling stuck with me. The swerving, and occasional heart-stopping moments at the sound of metal-to-metal scraping. It was unnerving, and frankly, I had to try very hard not to throw up.

It didn't take long to realize what was going on. I was in my late father's Dodge Charger, with Kyla behind the wheel, driving like a maniac. I felt unsettled, like back at the Desert Quarter, when I first recognized the signs of Kyla being in trouble. Or more accurately, _causing_ trouble. The stretch we were on were eerily quiet – very unlike downtown LA. Every so often I'd catch a glance at flashing lights up ahead. And when I say flashing lights, it was like a pyrotechnic show only with police squad car lights. It calmed me, for some reason.

But I had to juggle between feeling calm, and the nausea, which threatened to spill every time we hit that damn metal.

 _Earn your success based on service to others, not at the expense of others…_ This was directed at my dear sister, Kyla. _Half_ -sister. I actually didn't even want to mention that we were family, or related at all. She earned respect, and I'd give it to her, she could have made it successful, by doing legal racing. But she had a problem; she was very temperamental, and had scary anger issues. Attacking Peter Anderson had both of us banned from the tracks. Even though I went to jail for her, she could have tried and worked hard to get around it, and made a living out of the talent my father passed onto her. I'd give her that. But she chose to be successful at the expense of others. I wanted to serve people coffee and keep fraudulent mobsters off the streets. She wanted to rob suppliers and be a fraudulent mobster. I regretted not doing anything about it. I regretted not stopping her the moment I found out.

I watched from the corner of my eye as she reached for her gun, and held my breath. I knew I was on thin ice. I knew if we made it out of LA, Ashley Davies would no longer be. That's why I found comfort in those police lights up ahead.

Shots were fired.

 _Give people a second chance, but not a third…_ I finally managed to figure out what it was Kyla kept hitting, and this time, I did throw up. Tears spilled. I remember crying when we hit that orange Supra on the side. I begged Kyla to stop, but she wouldn't listen. I've given Kyla plenty of chances, and regretfully now had to live with the consequence of not giving the person that did matter, her chance. By giving Kyla her third, I regretfully took away Spencer's second…

 _Believe in love at first sight…_ I didn't believe in it, but regretted it now. Because it did happen to me. Spencer happened to me. And it was too late for me to apologize, to take her in my arms and tell her it would be okay, to tell her I loved her, tell her she was the most beautiful woman I knew. Her outer beauty was taken away by Kyla, who scraped against her car one last time. I had to watch with so much pain and regret as that Supra got clipped, and lifted into the air, flipping, crashing – crumbling into a tiny ball of metal as it landed.

We were so close to the end, the end of the race. To freedom. The army of police cars were welcoming. But it was too late. I had to live with these regrets.

"Ashley Davies, Kyla Woods, you are under arrest!"

I didn't even remember us stopping, or being pulled out of the car. My legs were numb, my heart shattered, as I watched the wreckage of the Supra come to a standstill. Dozens of police officers, and fire fighters – wherever they came from – were already on the scene.

I closed my eyes, unable to watch any more. I'd die if I had to see a body bag pulled out of the debris. I chose to remember her the way she made my heart skip beats, the way she made me forget to breathe sometimes. I chose to remember her blonde hair in that loose ponytail, strands falling into her eyes, those big blue eyes, lit up by the most beautiful smile. How she loved wearing her worn-down jeans, band T-shirts, and her black Converse shoes. I wanted to remember Spencer Carlin, the girl who took my breath away.

It was my regret to live with, that this beautiful girl wouldn't ever know that she had my heart…


	22. Chapter 21 : My Demise

**Spencer : My demise**

I didn't mind the harrowing feeling when I was airborne. I didn't mind the agonizing landing. I didn't mind the excruciating pain that shot through my body as the metal box, formerly known as my car, crumbled around and into me, shrinking and pinning me to its interior.

I could handle that – for the time being.

What I _couldn't_ handle _,_ however, was Ashley, stuck in Kyla's car as they sped away from me. I knew they would be stopped, we had roadblocks set up everywhere. I was scared though that they'd be stopped the same way Kyla just stopped me…

The day when I first saw Ashley, something happened to me. In my twenty four years of existence, I've never felt so many feelings awaken within me. I guess it was safe to say I've fallen in love – at first sight – something that I'd normally laugh at. I never believed in that kind of love. I didn't even know if I believed in love itself. But this beautiful brunette made me see life through different eyes. She made me _feel_ life. For a brief couple of weeks, I felt _alive_. I felt love. I felt loved in return.

I promised myself I wouldn't think of that night until the investigation was over. It was difficult – whenever I saw her, my body reacted. Whenever I thought of her, my heart reacted. It was like she was embedded into my nervous system and bloodstream. Our date night was special. Confusing, daunting even, but definitely special. Despite the doubts Kyla had planted in my head, despite my selfishness to try and get answers, I would do everything the same all over again. Maybe not tell all the lies, but everything else.

We made love. And contrary to belief, I did not do it to get answers from Ashley. I did not do it to _thank_ her for giving me answers. I did it because I was in love with her, and at that very moment, it was the only truth about myself I could offer her. It was the only way I could tell her how I felt, without compromising both of us.

It was intense. My fingers dug into her smooth back as she pushed me over the edge, over and over again. And right after, she was there to bring me back down to safety. She held me. I felt safe with her. I gave her all of me. I worshiped her body. She is incredibly beautiful. I kissed her, touched her, _every_ part of her. She screamed my name – I whimpered hers. I sobbed into her neck from sheer contentment. Tears of satisfaction filled her own eyes. It was a raw experience to say the least.

A lone tear trickled down my battered cheek. Or was that blood? I wasn't sure. The memory of that sacred night was _so_ bittersweet it hurt. Everything hurt.

I squeezed my eyes shut, savoring the image of Ashley displayed against my closed eyelids. Her chocolate brown eyes, her curly brown hair with the red-streaked fringe, her nose-crinkling smile. That smile… it was what kept me going every day while trying to find anything I could, to prove her innocence.

All I ever wanted for Ashley was freedom. She deserved as much. Freedom from her past, freedom from crimes that wasn't hers, freedom from burdens she had to carry and secrets she had to keep. Freedom to live the life she dreamed of. I hoped that Chelsea would come forward with the information I'd managed to give her throughout the car chase. I hoped they'd let Ashley go and I hoped she could graduate and fulfill her dreams. This time Kyla wouldn't be there to break her down or stop her. And I wouldn't be there to break her heart. She still had her chance at happiness.

Her chocolate brown eyes, her curly brown hair with the red-streaked fringe, her nose-crinkling smile…

"… Carlin!"

 _Chocolate brown eyes, curly brown hair with the red-streaked fringe, nose-crinkling smile…_

"Officer Carlin! Can you hear me?"

 _I'm in love with you, Ashley Davies…_

"I can see her! We're gonna need to cut her out!"

 _Chocolate brown eyes, curly brown hair with the red-streaked fringe, nose-crinkling smile…_

"Non-responsive! Just hold on, Spencer, we're gonna get you out of here."

 _I'm sorry, Ashley Davies…_


	23. Epilogue

**Disclaimer : I do not own SON or F &F**

* * *

 **Epilogue : Arthur Carlin**

I've waited for that call for almost thirty years. The mind-numbing, limb-weakening phone call from either the police department or a hospital. The first eleven years was when I had Paula in my life. We met when we were eighteen – both rookies at the LA Police Academy. Paula had a brilliant mind. She excelled in everything she did. I worshiped the ground she walked on.

We got married two years later. I stayed at the local police department and Paula had her eye on a position as a Detective, or either moving on to bigger things, like CIA or the FBI. Her dreams were put on hold when she gave birth to our beautiful daughter – Spencer – at the age of twenty-two.

While Spencer was everything to me, Paula started resenting the direction her life was headed to. She wasn't destined to stay a patrol officer or even a Detective. She wanted more.

Cars were in my blood. My own father was a Marine, but also an avid car-lover. I loved the thrill of car chases while being a cop. That is what had cost my job as a police officer – a terrible motor vehicle accident. Paula was the one who received the phone call. While I recovered at home, and looked after Spencer, Paula finally got her big break. She got offered a position as a junior FBI agent – in Washington D.C. There was nothing I could do to make her stay. Not even her own daughter was enough reason for her. Spencer was only seven years old.

I saw Paula for several brief moments after Spencer got assigned to this undercover case. I was surprised, to say the least, and we agreed to keep to ourselves. By then I'd already heard complaints from Spencer how terrible their FBI Supervisor was. It's been a comical, crazy experience.

Paula was the one who phoned me. I'd already lost my wife to this job, I couldn't bear the thought of losing my daughter too. It's always been my worst fear. The one thing that I was grateful for, was that Paula had at least had enough decency to wait for me until I arrived at the hospital. We went to see Spencer together. While Paula stood emotionless, I broke down. What do you do when you see your daughter hooked up to countless machines, unconscious, stitched up and covered in cast and bandages? What do you do when you can't do anything? I felt so helpless.

The nurses told me that Paula visited often, after hours, until Spencer started regaining consciousness. Then she disappeared again. It was somewhat comforting, yet disconcerting.

Despite Paula's lack of affection, I still somehow found peace. There was someone else who visited Spencer. She never left Spencer's side for the entire six weeks. And afterwards, she stuck around. In fact, she was sitting right next to me now, her hands fidgeting nervously.

"Ashley, there's nothing to be nervous about. They didn't ask you to do a speech, did they?"

She looked at me, and I could see why Spencer loved her so much. Innocence exuded off of her.

"N-No, not that I know of. Oh, gosh, I _hope_ not!"

I couldn't help but smile proudly. It was a big night – for both of them. Ashley had just accepted a junior position as a Forensic Auditor at Precinct 59, the same precinct Spencer was stationed at. Spencer was about to receive her Detective badge. They would both be receiving medals for commendation on the Woods/Mendez case; Spencer for bringing them to custody, and Ashley for uncovering a multi-million dollar laundering plot. It made headlines all over the country.

"Officer Spencer Carlin... Congratulations."

* * *

 **Ashley**

My heart was pounding in my chest. She was dressed in uniform and looked beautiful as ever, despite the scars and slight limp she still struggled with.

"Officer Spencer Carlin... Congratulations."

I watched with immense pride as she received her Detective badge. We were at some fancy gala-evening hosted by the LAPD. It felt great to be part of something so big. It felt like graduation, except here we really made a difference in people's lives.

Spencer Carlin definitely made a difference in my life.

I would never forget that day, three months ago. I still got lightheaded thinking about the remains of that car, and waiting to see Spencer being pulled out of it, a shiny blanket covering her entire body.

At that stage I was heaving all over, crying, screaming. I had so many regrets. But I didn't have time to ponder about it; both Kyla and I got arrested. I was so angry and disappointed. And completely broken. Kyla got shipped off to prison, her sentencing was fairly easy given her history.

I had to undergo rigorous interrogations, and after two days, I was released, and for unexplained reasons my previous record got cleared. Sergeant Chelsea Lewis and Special Agent Paula Montanio had taken it upon themselves to explain to me how Officer Carlin had fought for my innocence since the first day on her undercover assignment. That was when I truly realized that Spencer Carlin did care about me too. I meant something to her after all…

I spent every waking moment by Spencer's side. I met her father, Arthur, who visited several times a day. Sergeant Lewis tried to visit at least once a day, and even Agent Montanio popped in every now and then. The resemblance between her and Spencer was scary.

The happiest moment in my life was when Spencer woke up from her coma two weeks later. She cried my name as she came to. Her very first sentence was _"You came back"_ and then a shy _"I love you."_ There were a lot of tears that day.

With Arthur's help and consent, I'd moved my handful of belongings into Spencer's apartment. We put up some railings against the walls and installed floor lights to make things easier for when Spencer came home. I sold my racing car and some assets that the state allowed me to take, and bought a minivan to drive Spencer around if needed be.

Spencer came home after spending six weeks in hospital. Her recovery process was sluggish, but with motivation and hard work we got her back on her feet. Arthur came by often to cook us dinner while I looked after Spencer and studied to write my final exams. He was a great father and an amazing cook.

I'd graduated in the meantime, and got offered a job at Spencer's precinct as a junior Forensic Auditor. I've already been there for a week now. Spencer was due to return for light duty in the new week. I was looking forward to it. I loved the idea of us working together.

Detective Carlin and Forensic Auditor Davies.

 _Hmm…_

Detective and Forensic Auditor Carlin-Davies. _Much better_.

* * *

 **Spencer**

I plunged down on our king-sized bed and let out a long sigh. "I'm exhausted."

Ashley stopped at the door and leaned against the frame, her arms folded, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

I took a moment and stared at her, my eyes roaming her body from head to toe. She was dressed in a black women's suit, almost the same as her daily uniform now. Ashley in a suit was sexy. Her badge glimmered in the bedroom light. It was difficult some mornings to let her out of the house like that – I just wanted her all for myself. I had to give it to her for keeping that minivan. Our ride to work was also our make-out spot. It held many intimate secrets.

"How's your leg, baby? You seemed to be limping again towards the end of the night." She finally stepped into the room and joined me on our bed, lying on her side with one arm supporting her upper body.

I smiled, feeling my heart skipping beats as our eyes met. "I'm good. I was just tired."

We've come a long way since we first met almost two years ago. After that accident, I never thought I'd ever see her again. I didn't know that I would _live_ to see anyone at all. But I pulled through – during the time I was in the coma there was this calming presence; I felt at peace for the first time in seventeen years, since my mother left us. I could feel her there. And I could feel Ashley. Sometimes I'm sure I even heard them talk a little. Ashley talked to my dad a lot, and it meant the world to me that they got along so well. My dad absolutely adored Ashley. He was already hinting towards grandchildren.

Ashley reached out and stroked loose strands of hair from my face. "I'm so proud of you, Spence."

I've received a long service award tonight. I've been at Precinct 59 for five years. A cop for a total of eight years. And I loved it. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

I was beaming myself. "I'm proud of _you_ , Ash. You've been through so much and yet here you are – senior Forensic Auditor! How does it feel, living your dream?"

She got promoted. Ashley was a highly intelligent woman.

"You mean, this dream?" She leaned down and planted soft kisses on my lips.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the feel of her lips against mine. I could never get enough of her. Her presence still had the same effect on me like the first time I saw her. Only now, it was even more intense. I returned her kisses, eliciting a soft moan from her. It was a good thing I was lying down, Ashley also still knew how to turn me into mush. I could hardly move my legs.

Ashley realized this and smiled knowingly. " _You_ are my dream, Spencer Carlin-Davies." She kissed me one more time and rested her head on my shoulder, closing her eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too, Ashley Carlin-Davies." I fell asleep with her, content, knowing that when I woke up, I'd wake up to those chocolate brown eyes, curly brown hair with a red-streaked fringe, and a nose-crinkling smile…

* * *

 **A/N : And that's it, folks! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Next fic will be up in a couple of weeks, I have other projects to focus on for a bit. Looking forward to share a romantic comedy Mid-December! Cheers!**


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